Stassi202
Bluelighter
Yes. Three times.
-
-
DC Moderators: ghostfreak | VerbalTruist
Have You Ever Overdosed? [and all overdose discussion/stories]
- Thread starter bogey_j
- Start date
Deleted member 578389
Greenlighter
ir mxe dosed too high, sister found me in the bathtub out cold
ir mxe + unknown rc stimulant, i got unlabeled powders mixed up and meant to combine mxe with 4-ho-met, oding on a stimulant was unbelievably cooked, i still remember sitting outside losing sensation in my limbs, found my parents who got me an ambulance.
fk the paramedics for shaming me for the roa and oding
oding and coming to in a hospital bed is one of the wake up calls, really lucky i'm alive, makes one believe in guardian angels.
ir mxe + unknown rc stimulant, i got unlabeled powders mixed up and meant to combine mxe with 4-ho-met, oding on a stimulant was unbelievably cooked, i still remember sitting outside losing sensation in my limbs, found my parents who got me an ambulance.
fk the paramedics for shaming me for the roa and oding
oding and coming to in a hospital bed is one of the wake up calls, really lucky i'm alive, makes one believe in guardian angels.
NullVoidXIII
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Sep 25, 2025
- Messages
- 171
Yyyyeeaahhhh it's not exactly something I'm proud of...Long story short I OD'ed on sleeping pills and survived, amazingly without requiring a catheter, although I do have pelvic floor and bladder damage and kidney damage that makes urinating challenging sometimes. I have ceased all use of sleeping pills since. It wasn't something I was planning or did on purpose, is the thing. It's more like, I live in a really chaotic environment and needed to sleep and I had people repeatedly waking me up. So I got pissed off and kept taking sleeping pills after waking up to go back to sleep. Funny thing, last time they woke me up, they took one look at me and said something like "oh, nevermind, you look terrible, go back to bed." lmao. I am, admittedly, amazed at my bodies resilience over the years. I'm sure it's catching up to me as I'm getting older so I'm more cautious these days but, man was I on one Hell of a selfdestructive warpath of insanity when I was younger, I was basically like a drunken Infested Terran from Starcraft, a format I still kind of default to when backed into a corner in life (I really gotta come up with a better strategy for that scenario).
afternoonanesthetist
Greenlighter
- Joined
- Mar 6, 2026
- Messages
- 3
After being back on here and reading other people's experiences, has really given me some perspective on my previous hard usage (16+ years ago) of various chems, with little to no regard for consequences on myself or others.
Whilst I've not officially been to hospital for an 'OD' I have probably needed to many times. Some people are lucky, some are not. Please research this site for info before doing something for a first time, and always be safe my people!
This was 16+ years ago.
Day three of I.V. meth and ritalin binge, I hooked up with a chick who I knew had access to ritalin, doctors as parents with blank script pads around the house
. I had been drinking, taking benzos, smoking weed as normal, but decided on the way back to hers on a quick stop at a friend's house to see if he had any spare liquid methadone 
He did, I drank too much. I had a medium opiate tolerance, but drank an un measured amount.
I was also taking an extreme amount of benzos at that point in time. Morning dose to get going was mogadon, Xanax, stillnox, valium/ alepam and some codiene depending on what I had, and constant dosing throughout the day.
This lovely lady had no idea the nature of what I was taking or what the combined effects would be.
When we got to hers and into bed, I was dropping out big time, whilst still trying to be attentive and intimate
Next thing I remember is her waking me up while choking on my vomit. Went back to sleep after getting to the bathroom to purge, and by the morning she had cleaned everything up.
Not my best pickup
Without knowing, she certainly saved my life that night.
Hooking up with a chick and going home with her was something of a rare occurrence back then for me.
I would have done the same drugs if she wasn't around, so certainly feel the universe gave me a warning, and a lesson about where I was heading that night.
*Understanding the warning and the lesson came much later in life. The next day I woke up, finished a glass of wine still next to the bed from night before with whatever benzos I had on me, and went home to continue the cycle.
Sorry for a long post that isn't a proper OD, but thankyou for being a space I am able to type this and reflect on some of the more stupid/ self destructive experiences from my past
Whilst I've not officially been to hospital for an 'OD' I have probably needed to many times. Some people are lucky, some are not. Please research this site for info before doing something for a first time, and always be safe my people!
This was 16+ years ago.
Day three of I.V. meth and ritalin binge, I hooked up with a chick who I knew had access to ritalin, doctors as parents with blank script pads around the house
. I had been drinking, taking benzos, smoking weed as normal, but decided on the way back to hers on a quick stop at a friend's house to see if he had any spare liquid methadone He did, I drank too much. I had a medium opiate tolerance, but drank an un measured amount.
I was also taking an extreme amount of benzos at that point in time. Morning dose to get going was mogadon, Xanax, stillnox, valium/ alepam and some codiene depending on what I had, and constant dosing throughout the day.
This lovely lady had no idea the nature of what I was taking or what the combined effects would be.
When we got to hers and into bed, I was dropping out big time, whilst still trying to be attentive and intimate
Next thing I remember is her waking me up while choking on my vomit. Went back to sleep after getting to the bathroom to purge, and by the morning she had cleaned everything up.
Not my best pickup
Without knowing, she certainly saved my life that night.
Hooking up with a chick and going home with her was something of a rare occurrence back then for me.
I would have done the same drugs if she wasn't around, so certainly feel the universe gave me a warning, and a lesson about where I was heading that night.
*Understanding the warning and the lesson came much later in life. The next day I woke up, finished a glass of wine still next to the bed from night before with whatever benzos I had on me, and went home to continue the cycle.
Sorry for a long post that isn't a proper OD, but thankyou for being a space I am able to type this and reflect on some of the more stupid/ self destructive experiences from my past
SoCalShordie
Bluelight Crew
- Joined
- Nov 3, 2021
- Messages
- 1,761
Hey guys, I’m currently writing a memoir. It’s a collection of short stories in random order about true events that have shaped who I am. Here’s a chapter I wrote about the time I overdosed on fentanyl. I’m using a pen name for publishing, if anyone’s wondering about the name lol.
White Knight, Black Tacoma
from Scorpion by Delilah Noriega
I’m alone in my room, stuck between two worlds—like Sylvia Plath. Maybe it’s just the Scorpio condition.
I’ve been staying at my grandparents’ house ever since the hospital released me after a joyride on GHB left me with a fractured spine. Now I’m laid up here, trying to recover a piece of myself.
I’m miserable.
Depression ain’t even a deep enough word to cut it. Every day feels like a gut-wrenching freefall. I’m hollow inside, numb to everything except the constant shame over my inability to exercise self-control. The guilt sits heavy in my chest—putting my family through the same shit year after year.
Something’s gotta give.
I stopped messing with heroin about two years ago, but lately I can feel my will slipping. The urge creeping back in.
I hit up AB.
He’s one of the only real friends I’ve got left. AB used to sell Xanny bars and I was a loyal customer.
But he’s not like most people.
He’s solid.
More than that—I trust him.
That’s more than I can say for just about anyone.
I shoot him a text.
Hey, what’s good with you?
He hits me back pretty quick, asking how I’m doing.
I’m in a world of pain, bro. I really need some painkillers. Oxy, heroin, anything. Can you help me out? I’m fucking desperate.
I see the typing bubbles appear.
Disappear.
Then appear again.
Finally he replies.
He says he knows someone who’s got fentanyl, but he doesn’t want any part in helping me cop. Says it ain’t for the weak.
Says he cares about me.
I almost believe him.
Maybe he just feels sorry for me—because I almost died in that crash. Because the hospital sent me home with nothing for the pain. Because I always end up with guys who drag me through the mud.
Because I’m broken.
But I know AB’s got a soft spot for me.
And I fully intend on taking advantage of it.
I lay it on thick until he finally caves and agrees to pick me up and take me to the plug.
⸻
AB pulls up in a lowered, blacked-out Tacoma.
My stomach flips with that familiar mix of excitement and nerves as I climb into the passenger seat.
Fetty is crucial right now.
He glances over at me, locking eyes. His voice is smooth, but laced with concern. His big brown eyes radiate a genuine kindness you don’t see much out here.
For a split second I actually feel bad for putting him in this position.
Just for a moment.
Then I shut that feeling down.
That’s something I’ve always been good at—turning my emotions off.
Compartmentalization is one of my greatest assets.
AB isn’t like that.
He wears his heart on his sleeve.
He gives me that look he always gets when he’s worried about something—one eyebrow raised, his forehead scrunching into a V.
“I just don’t want anything to happen to you, bro.”
A lump forms in my throat, and a deep pang of guilt settles in my gut.
I brush it off.
“Nah, I’m good,” I say. “You know I was on the needle, right? This is light work.”
AB doesn’t look too sure, but he leaves it alone.
“I’m good, I promise,” I say. “Trust me.”
⸻
We drive for a while in silence.
“It’s That Gas” by Young Mike is knocking through the speakers, but my thoughts drown it out. I roll the window halfway down and stare out into the desert twilight.
The sky stretches wide and black.
Stars sparkle like diamonds scattered across velvet.
For a moment I imagine grabbing the sky and pulling it down around me like a blanket. I imagine hiding underneath it like a child.
I think about the irony of the moment.
AB is scared enough for the both of us.
While I’ve spent years gambling with my life like it’s nothing.
Risk never bothered me—as long as the end result was pure oblivion.
Ain’t like you got anything to lose anyway.
⸻
We pull up to a trap house somewhere between Pelona Vista and Anaverde.
AB parks the truck and pulls a blunt from behind his ear, sparking it like it’s part of a ritual.
He always looks cool.
The front door swings open and a smoked-out white boy staggers toward the truck. He’s wobbling like gravity works different for him.
AB leans toward me.
“See this fool?” he says quietly, nodding toward the guy. “See how he’s moving?”
The kid sways like seaweed in water.
He shakes his head.
“He got a heavy tolerance too. Look how it still hits him.”
Then softer:
“Just be careful, bro.”
For a moment, regret flickers inside me.
Then the monster wakes up.
It starts as a whisper.
Then louder.
And louder.
Until it’s the only voice I can hear.
The darkness creeps back in, thick and hungry.
If you move through shadows like a ghost, you’re already dead.
Fuck it.
⸻
The white kid finally reaches the truck.
AB rolls down the passenger window.
“Hey, this is Delilah—my little white girl,” he says. “She’s never done this before. I just want her to be as safe as possible, you feel me?”
He hands over the dub I gave him.
The kid passes back a small baggie half-filled with off-white powder.
It looks completely foreign to me.
He carefully measures out an amount that’s suitable for a first timer, then drops it onto a piece of foil.
He passes me a straw and a BIC lighter. “Don’t hit it like heroin,” the kid says. “Fentanyl’s a different animal.”
But I’m getting irritated.
“I used to shoot heroin,” I tell them. “Y’all keep acting like this is some huge deal.”
They keep lecturing me anyway.
I roll my eyes.
As soon as I take the first hit, I start bitching.
“That was weak. The wind messed it up. Roll up the window, I need another.”
The second hit?
I rip that shit.
Hard.
There’s nothing left on the foil when I’m done.
“Woah, woah!” The guys are trying to slow me down, but it’s too late.
The last thing I remember saying is:
“Oh, fuck.”
⸻
After that, everything tilts sideways.
It’s like I’m watching the world from somewhere behind my own head. My body is still in the passenger seat, but I’m not really inside it anymore.
“Kiss me!” I hear myself say, leaning halfway across the truck toward AB.
He chuckles nervously.
“But you got a man,” he says. “And I got a girl.”
I laugh.
“I don’t give a fuck.”
Then everything fades.
Not peaceful.
Not dramatic.
Just black.
A darkness so thick it swallows everything whole.
No tunnel of light. No memories flashing.
Just silence.
And the feeling of falling.
down…
down…
down…
⸻
Meanwhile, back in the truck, my body is dying.
At first, AB thinks I’m just nodding out.
“Delilah,” he says, nudging my shoulder.
Nothing.
“Delilah. Wake up.”
My head is slumped forward now. My breathing slows.
Then stops.
“Oh shit.”
He grabs my face, shaking me.
“DELILAH!”
My lips are turning blue. My eyes rolled halfway back.
No response.
He throws the Tacoma into reverse and tears back toward the trap house, tires spitting gravel.
The truck screeches to a stop outside the plug’s spot.
AB jumps out and starts pounding on the door.
“YO! OPEN THE DOOR!”
No answer.
He bangs harder.
“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR! SHE’S OD’ING!”
A light flicks on.
The door swings open and the same white kid stares out.
AB grabs him by the shirt.
“She’s not breathing!”
The kid sobers up instantly.
“Fuck—hold on.”
He runs inside and comes back with a small orange box.
Narcan.
They drag me across the passenger seat.
The kid tilts my head back.
Pssshhht.
First spray.
They wait.
Nothing.
My chest doesn’t move.
“Again,” AB says.
The kid fumbles with the second one.
Pssshhht.
Second spray.
Still nothing.
AB starts giving me CPR, pumping on my chest to get me to breathe.
Still, nothing.
“Bro…” The kid mutters, now completely panicked.
The silence in that moment feels endless.
“You got the shot?” AB asks.
The kid nods, digging through his bag.
His hands are shaking so badly he can barely prepare the shot.
“Hurry the fuck up,” AB snaps.
The kid misses the vial.
The needle clinks against the glass.
AB loses patience.
“Give me that.”
He snatches the syringe from the kid’s hands.
Then grabs my leg.
And jams the needle hard into my thigh.
⸻
Somewhere deep in the darkness—
my body gasps.
Air slams back into my lungs like I’ve been underwater too long.
⸻
“You really scared me, dude.”
The voice cracks through the void.
The darkness begins to lift.
I feel movement beneath me—the rumble of tires on asphalt.
Shapes slowly return.
Headlights.
Streetlights.
The clicking rhythm of a turn signal.
“Delilah… talk to me.”
My eyes snap open.
I’m back in the passenger seat of AB’s truck.
My lungs burn.
“What happened?” My voice sounds small, like it belongs to someone else.
AB glances over at me, disbelief written all over his face.
“You overdosed.”
The word lands heavy.
“I had to run back and bang on the plug’s door. We hit you with Narcan twice.”
He shakes his head.
“Then I had to stick you with the shot.”
Outside the windshield, the desert road stretches endlessly into the night.
I lean my head back against the seat.
The darkness I just fell through still clings to the edges of my mind.
down…
down…
down…
For a moment neither of us speaks.
Then AB exhales.
“Don’t ever scare me like that again.”
I stare out the window at the desert sky.
Stars glitter across the black like broken glass.
Somewhere out there in that endless night, I know exactly how close I came.
I should’ve died that night in the passenger seat of AB’s Tacoma.
Maybe a version of me did.
But something stubborn inside me kept breathing.
That’s the thing about scorpions.
They don’t die easy.
White Knight, Black Tacoma
from Scorpion by Delilah Noriega
I’m alone in my room, stuck between two worlds—like Sylvia Plath. Maybe it’s just the Scorpio condition.
I’ve been staying at my grandparents’ house ever since the hospital released me after a joyride on GHB left me with a fractured spine. Now I’m laid up here, trying to recover a piece of myself.
I’m miserable.
Depression ain’t even a deep enough word to cut it. Every day feels like a gut-wrenching freefall. I’m hollow inside, numb to everything except the constant shame over my inability to exercise self-control. The guilt sits heavy in my chest—putting my family through the same shit year after year.
Something’s gotta give.
I stopped messing with heroin about two years ago, but lately I can feel my will slipping. The urge creeping back in.
I hit up AB.
He’s one of the only real friends I’ve got left. AB used to sell Xanny bars and I was a loyal customer.
But he’s not like most people.
He’s solid.
More than that—I trust him.
That’s more than I can say for just about anyone.
I shoot him a text.
Hey, what’s good with you?
He hits me back pretty quick, asking how I’m doing.
I’m in a world of pain, bro. I really need some painkillers. Oxy, heroin, anything. Can you help me out? I’m fucking desperate.
I see the typing bubbles appear.
Disappear.
Then appear again.
Finally he replies.
He says he knows someone who’s got fentanyl, but he doesn’t want any part in helping me cop. Says it ain’t for the weak.
Says he cares about me.
I almost believe him.
Maybe he just feels sorry for me—because I almost died in that crash. Because the hospital sent me home with nothing for the pain. Because I always end up with guys who drag me through the mud.
Because I’m broken.
But I know AB’s got a soft spot for me.
And I fully intend on taking advantage of it.
I lay it on thick until he finally caves and agrees to pick me up and take me to the plug.
⸻
AB pulls up in a lowered, blacked-out Tacoma.
My stomach flips with that familiar mix of excitement and nerves as I climb into the passenger seat.
Fetty is crucial right now.
He glances over at me, locking eyes. His voice is smooth, but laced with concern. His big brown eyes radiate a genuine kindness you don’t see much out here.
For a split second I actually feel bad for putting him in this position.
Just for a moment.
Then I shut that feeling down.
That’s something I’ve always been good at—turning my emotions off.
Compartmentalization is one of my greatest assets.
AB isn’t like that.
He wears his heart on his sleeve.
He gives me that look he always gets when he’s worried about something—one eyebrow raised, his forehead scrunching into a V.
“I just don’t want anything to happen to you, bro.”
A lump forms in my throat, and a deep pang of guilt settles in my gut.
I brush it off.
“Nah, I’m good,” I say. “You know I was on the needle, right? This is light work.”
AB doesn’t look too sure, but he leaves it alone.
“I’m good, I promise,” I say. “Trust me.”
⸻
We drive for a while in silence.
“It’s That Gas” by Young Mike is knocking through the speakers, but my thoughts drown it out. I roll the window halfway down and stare out into the desert twilight.
The sky stretches wide and black.
Stars sparkle like diamonds scattered across velvet.
For a moment I imagine grabbing the sky and pulling it down around me like a blanket. I imagine hiding underneath it like a child.
I think about the irony of the moment.
AB is scared enough for the both of us.
While I’ve spent years gambling with my life like it’s nothing.
Risk never bothered me—as long as the end result was pure oblivion.
Ain’t like you got anything to lose anyway.
⸻
We pull up to a trap house somewhere between Pelona Vista and Anaverde.
AB parks the truck and pulls a blunt from behind his ear, sparking it like it’s part of a ritual.
He always looks cool.
The front door swings open and a smoked-out white boy staggers toward the truck. He’s wobbling like gravity works different for him.
AB leans toward me.
“See this fool?” he says quietly, nodding toward the guy. “See how he’s moving?”
The kid sways like seaweed in water.
He shakes his head.
“He got a heavy tolerance too. Look how it still hits him.”
Then softer:
“Just be careful, bro.”
For a moment, regret flickers inside me.
Then the monster wakes up.
It starts as a whisper.
Then louder.
And louder.
Until it’s the only voice I can hear.
The darkness creeps back in, thick and hungry.
If you move through shadows like a ghost, you’re already dead.
Fuck it.
⸻
The white kid finally reaches the truck.
AB rolls down the passenger window.
“Hey, this is Delilah—my little white girl,” he says. “She’s never done this before. I just want her to be as safe as possible, you feel me?”
He hands over the dub I gave him.
The kid passes back a small baggie half-filled with off-white powder.
It looks completely foreign to me.
He carefully measures out an amount that’s suitable for a first timer, then drops it onto a piece of foil.
He passes me a straw and a BIC lighter. “Don’t hit it like heroin,” the kid says. “Fentanyl’s a different animal.”
But I’m getting irritated.
“I used to shoot heroin,” I tell them. “Y’all keep acting like this is some huge deal.”
They keep lecturing me anyway.
I roll my eyes.
As soon as I take the first hit, I start bitching.
“That was weak. The wind messed it up. Roll up the window, I need another.”
The second hit?
I rip that shit.
Hard.
There’s nothing left on the foil when I’m done.
“Woah, woah!” The guys are trying to slow me down, but it’s too late.
The last thing I remember saying is:
“Oh, fuck.”
⸻
After that, everything tilts sideways.
It’s like I’m watching the world from somewhere behind my own head. My body is still in the passenger seat, but I’m not really inside it anymore.
“Kiss me!” I hear myself say, leaning halfway across the truck toward AB.
He chuckles nervously.
“But you got a man,” he says. “And I got a girl.”
I laugh.
“I don’t give a fuck.”
Then everything fades.
Not peaceful.
Not dramatic.
Just black.
A darkness so thick it swallows everything whole.
No tunnel of light. No memories flashing.
Just silence.
And the feeling of falling.
down…
down…
down…
⸻
Meanwhile, back in the truck, my body is dying.
At first, AB thinks I’m just nodding out.
“Delilah,” he says, nudging my shoulder.
Nothing.
“Delilah. Wake up.”
My head is slumped forward now. My breathing slows.
Then stops.
“Oh shit.”
He grabs my face, shaking me.
“DELILAH!”
My lips are turning blue. My eyes rolled halfway back.
No response.
He throws the Tacoma into reverse and tears back toward the trap house, tires spitting gravel.
The truck screeches to a stop outside the plug’s spot.
AB jumps out and starts pounding on the door.
“YO! OPEN THE DOOR!”
No answer.
He bangs harder.
“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR! SHE’S OD’ING!”
A light flicks on.
The door swings open and the same white kid stares out.
AB grabs him by the shirt.
“She’s not breathing!”
The kid sobers up instantly.
“Fuck—hold on.”
He runs inside and comes back with a small orange box.
Narcan.
They drag me across the passenger seat.
The kid tilts my head back.
Pssshhht.
First spray.
They wait.
Nothing.
My chest doesn’t move.
“Again,” AB says.
The kid fumbles with the second one.
Pssshhht.
Second spray.
Still nothing.
AB starts giving me CPR, pumping on my chest to get me to breathe.
Still, nothing.
“Bro…” The kid mutters, now completely panicked.
The silence in that moment feels endless.
“You got the shot?” AB asks.
The kid nods, digging through his bag.
His hands are shaking so badly he can barely prepare the shot.
“Hurry the fuck up,” AB snaps.
The kid misses the vial.
The needle clinks against the glass.
AB loses patience.
“Give me that.”
He snatches the syringe from the kid’s hands.
Then grabs my leg.
And jams the needle hard into my thigh.
⸻
Somewhere deep in the darkness—
my body gasps.
Air slams back into my lungs like I’ve been underwater too long.
⸻
“You really scared me, dude.”
The voice cracks through the void.
The darkness begins to lift.
I feel movement beneath me—the rumble of tires on asphalt.
Shapes slowly return.
Headlights.
Streetlights.
The clicking rhythm of a turn signal.
“Delilah… talk to me.”
My eyes snap open.
I’m back in the passenger seat of AB’s truck.
My lungs burn.
“What happened?” My voice sounds small, like it belongs to someone else.
AB glances over at me, disbelief written all over his face.
“You overdosed.”
The word lands heavy.
“I had to run back and bang on the plug’s door. We hit you with Narcan twice.”
He shakes his head.
“Then I had to stick you with the shot.”
Outside the windshield, the desert road stretches endlessly into the night.
I lean my head back against the seat.
The darkness I just fell through still clings to the edges of my mind.
down…
down…
down…
For a moment neither of us speaks.
Then AB exhales.
“Don’t ever scare me like that again.”
I stare out the window at the desert sky.
Stars glitter across the black like broken glass.
Somewhere out there in that endless night, I know exactly how close I came.
I should’ve died that night in the passenger seat of AB’s Tacoma.
Maybe a version of me did.
But something stubborn inside me kept breathing.
That’s the thing about scorpions.
They don’t die easy.
danosaurous22
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Jun 10, 2025
- Messages
- 127
Huge cocaine dose after a multi-day bender actually caused every single part of my body to shake uncontrollably for like 10ish minutes. I was still very lucid and just had to sit there on the floor shaking until it finally stopped. Thought about calling an ambulance but just couldn't make myself do it, I probably should've but I did end up being totally fine. Only time that has happened to me, it was particularly fucking strong cocaine and very pure.
SeekingOblivion
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Jan 7, 2025
- Messages
- 303
What was the shot?
SoCalShordie
Bluelight Crew
- Joined
- Nov 3, 2021
- Messages
- 1,761
Narcan
SeekingOblivion
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Jan 7, 2025
- Messages
- 303
The plug kept narcan injections?
SoCalShordie
Bluelight Crew
- Joined
- Nov 3, 2021
- Messages
- 1,761
Yep. This one did. Most of them do, the ones I’ve been around
SoCalShordie
Bluelight Crew
- Joined
- Nov 3, 2021
- Messages
- 1,761
The plug was a fentanyl addict himself, so he always had narcan around
opiatekrzy
Bluelighter
I have overdosed numerous times and fentanyl and had to be narcanned and brought back. When I was 14 years old I was abusing Soma and I had a tolerance and I took so much that I had a seizure at school and had to go to the hospital I count that as an overdose.
When I was going through fentanyl withdrawl I was smoking meth to make myself feel better but I had a bad batch it must of had a lot of ISO in it, but I was having heart palpitations chest pain I was projectile vomiting and I felt a burning sensation in my chest I had I called 911 on myself and they gave me IV benzodiazepines and then I was delirious for a day or two in the emergency room. I really believe I overdosed on methamphetamine and I almost died
When I was going through fentanyl withdrawl I was smoking meth to make myself feel better but I had a bad batch it must of had a lot of ISO in it, but I was having heart palpitations chest pain I was projectile vomiting and I felt a burning sensation in my chest I had I called 911 on myself and they gave me IV benzodiazepines and then I was delirious for a day or two in the emergency room. I really believe I overdosed on methamphetamine and I almost died
spypilot
Bluelighter
most of my overdoses were on diphenhydramine but a few of them were dextromethorphan one was so bad i had to go to the er and was in a ward for the next 4 days
and one time i took too much tramadol and lorazepam and threw up in a dave and busters parking lot
and one time i took too much tramadol and lorazepam and threw up in a dave and busters parking lot
SlothMercy
Greenlighter
- Joined
- Jan 3, 2025
- Messages
- 1
Stupid in hindsight but hopping air bnbs on a 3 day binge on MDMA, shooting goofballs (meth and heroin) and one of the shots took me out
I remember my eyes getting really blurry (more than normal) as i was trying to read what I was typing into my laptop , held my hands up to look at them and I was laughing at my fingers going blue then thats it. I wouldnt have known I died, I was laughing as I was.
I woke up to my partner staring at me frantically while I came to on the bed with a Narcan needle in my leg.
I kept getting interim kaleidoscope vision, a crazy headache and my throat hurt extrodinarily bad I felt like I couldnt talk for a day after.
I cannot stress narcan needles enough. My partner used like 3 intranasals and they didnt work.
I remember my eyes getting really blurry (more than normal) as i was trying to read what I was typing into my laptop , held my hands up to look at them and I was laughing at my fingers going blue then thats it. I wouldnt have known I died, I was laughing as I was.
I woke up to my partner staring at me frantically while I came to on the bed with a Narcan needle in my leg.
I kept getting interim kaleidoscope vision, a crazy headache and my throat hurt extrodinarily bad I felt like I couldnt talk for a day after.
I cannot stress narcan needles enough. My partner used like 3 intranasals and they didnt work.