^Thanks.
I've decided not to post the full report from my January experience, but I will go ahead and post the more thoughtful and introspective section of an IV MDMA report, marking my final transgression with stimulant abuse.
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I’d hoped to meditate on my medical specialty career decision, the deadline of which is swiftly approaching, but what plagued my thoughts was my unhealthy fascination with the needle.
I analyze this preoccupation.
Almost two years ago, I escaped a harrowing cycle self-destruction, at least from my perspective. With one small exception, even my wife was unaware of these lapses in judgement. I previously noted a short and frightening affair with IV cocaine and fentanyl, which occurred while my wife (then fiancé) was living in Washingon, D.C. and then working in Africa the summer before our wedding.
I had thought I was and always would be in control. Unfortunately, I had underestimated the power of the primitive brain. Pleasure and reinforcement pathways are evidently contained in a delicate nest of neurons, sending projections to a few key areas of the brain, and intravenous drug use has the ability to disrupt this equilibrium with inconceivable efficiency. Some powerful imprinting took place during those first few experiences. I imagine it is not too different than the imprinting that occurs when a duckling first fixes eyes on its mother. The needle has indelibly seared its image into my cortex with a durable array of pleasure associations.
Because of weighty responsibilities and a new marriage, I was able to put those times behind me, escape the cycling bouts of depression, and excel academically. Still, the needle held a dangerously sexy attraction that did not quickly fade. Over the past years I’ve relapsed numerous times, although until tonight, I had never considered my occasional weekend affairs with IV oxycodone true “relapses”. I had simply gotten smart about my addiction. I knew that I no longer possessed the self-control to use a supply of opiates sparingly or when the occasion was suitable, so I limited my purchases to small quantities … too little to result in a significant withdrawal syndrome. While my access to these drugs never disappeared, my damage control strategies were more or less effective.
What I realized is that my twisted rationalizations of pleasure drug use are impossible to untangle. I am aware that though certain drugs reliably produce a state of hedonistic pleasure, most often the trough they leave in their wake is deeper than the crest is high.
Interestingly, despite this intense self-analysis, the reflexive sense of shame was seemingly mitigated by the chemicals in my synapses. This kind of brutal self-honesty is truly therapeutic.
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Since writing this report in early January, I have not touched any stimulants with the exception of caffeine. A psychedelic experience with 4-AcO-DMT a few weeks later resulted in the disposal of the remainder of 'hedonistic' drugs in my collection. The pleasure seeking drive undoubtedly surfaces on occasion, but I have managed to suppress these urges with my own take on cognitive-behavioral therapy and I have been quite successful in cultivating a more stable sense of well-being.
