The following was written over a year ago while under the influence of mushrooms. It was my last trip. Hope you enjoy it. I know I did.
3/22/06
Got off work @ 7am. I took the bus to the pharmacy and asked the pharmacist to lend me 8 of my Rx painkillers, which he did. My credit is good with my dealers, licit and illicit, hehe. Then I took the bus to Hillcrest Park, as I decided it would be a good place to take shrooms. I had an empty stomach. The little bit of crystal meth I'd done earlier was wearin off, while the painkillers kicked in a mild, pleasant buzz. However, there was a delay in actually taking the shrooms, as I had to call work to see what it was they wanted to talk to be about before proceeding. Then I had to call my Mom.
After that I held off another 5 hours only cause this dickhead cocksucker Mexican creep for whatever God forsaken reason would not leave me the fuck alone. I mean he saw me sitting under the tree obviously wanting privacy by the way I was ignoring him. Then he asked me the time & I made it clear that having any sort of conversation was unwanted, so he walked off presumably on about his business, but remained lurking not far away, fucking watching and listening to my phone calls.
So I got up, moved way the fuck away, gave him extremely foul looks and glares and thought how satisfying it would be to ram my foot knocking his teeth down his throat. Five hrs later I see that he is obviously pissed off because I had purposely kept my distance. At some point he drove off in his truck. He was nonverbally communicating to me he was bent at my rejection and I was nonverbally communicating to him to fuck off. I can’t for the life of me figure out who’d want a middle aged, slightly overweight broad wearing baggy jeans, no make up, clearly wanting to be left the fuck alone.
At 3pm I found a spot, sat down, and finally ate what was hopefully magic dust from the bag. It is 3:30pm now. I have asked to be allowed a momentary connection with nature, with Universe, with God. I am intuitive sober, at times a bit more on painkillers or meth, depending if it’s the right dose or not. Otherwise, since turning 40, the trips I’ve taken on shrooms are a lot more pure and true in a spiritual sense that they were the times I tripped when I was age 23-28.
I don’t know if in fact I’ll find what I seek on this trip. God help me, I hope so. I need some insight. I need help to achieve the power to carry the will of God for me out. The magic dust of the gods is like a direct telephone line to call upon the benevolent guides of the spiritual plane. So here I am. Jesus, God, Universe, please talk to me. I beg you to help me overcome this split division in my heart. The flesh is so damn weak. Please help me overcome this damn obstacle, let me be free. Please…
(I think I was referring to being hopelessly strung out on dope and all the negative mental baggage I had to date been carrying around for so long)
Granted then, God, I will accept whatever it is-or not-You want to say to me. Please open my heart. I want to hear You. Please take me to You. My sweet Lord. Last trip Jesus, You came to me. You and I need to be alone. Please let me for today, let me come Home. I need guidance Lord. Help please. Then I beg that Your angels may put Your strength in me, in order that I may carry out Your will—whatever that may be. Half my life here on earth is over. Please help me to be whatever it is You want from me.
I pray that You help me. The time is now. Lord, time is swiftly running out. I beg You please don’t let my pleasures of the flesh and my blasted mental blocks win. I only hope I can and will do Your will before my time here on earth is thru. Thank you Jesus. Amen.
It is now 4:00pm. Don’t feel anything really yet. Can’t remember for sure, but I think I took these shrooms an hour ago. Don’t feel nothing. Guess I’ll find out if what I took will lead me to You. I will seek. I shall look. I love you.
4:17pm—Could be my imagination. Perhaps maybe feel very subtle effects. The beginnings of said effects, if indeed that is the case. Very slight “butterfly” feeling in my stomach. Slight feeling of well being.
I love the warmth of the sun and the feel of the wind as the breeze caresses my face. The park is lovely. I wish I could posess the ability to appreciate and enjoy a simple afternoon sober like I can now. Oh well, for now let me let go and receive God’s blessing.
That dick head Mexican creep came back, at least I think it was the same dude? He walked on by me—said hi—but I nonverbally communicated to him somehow that my rejection of his advances was nothing personal. He seems to have picked up the mellow vibes I sent out and they were better received cause he is respecting my distance but he’s no longer pissed off. I mentally told him no offense, I just needed time alone. He’s letting me be. : ) He saw me writing on this pad—homegirl (yours truly) be scribbling away. : )
Maybe he’s picking up the “Oh it’s one of them writer type species. Rare indeed. Writers must write. Let the homegirl proceed.” Or maybe I’m just freakin stoned. LMAO.
I’m a bit off, even for a drug addict. How often you see or hear about addicted chicks when high sit and type or write like hell wouldn’t have it? Especially in public places. Lots of us chemical romancers of the most devoted kind practice odd behaviors such as taking shit apart, losing their keys, go dumpster diving, stealing, on curtain patrol looking out windows every 5 seconds and seein shit that isn’t there, or nodding out in Poppy Land. We junkies are a breed apart. : ). In spite of our flaws, I think a lot of us are good at heart.
The homeboy came back & parked a few minutes across from the oval pit. Again he sees what I do. I thought, “Oh fuck, not again.” Good, he picked up his backpack and rode away on his bike. He’s on foot, then he’s driving his truck, now his bike. What’s up with that? He’s gonna leave me be. That wot I like. : ) Still, I’ve obviously sparked this wet back’s curiosity.
As junkies, it’s amusing that it’s as if our behaviors are being watched and studied under a microscope, even if non users don’t know we are members of “The Addict Family.” We must appear peculiar indeed. Oh man, let’s see what this irritating aggressive fuck is up to now. I’m being watched. I can’t see him, but I sense him. I’m being studied. Perhaps he too is a dope enthusiast. Most normal guys would leave this strange lady and her likewise strange behaviors alone. If he’s an addict then on some level I sense he must know that I am too.
Addicts tend to find other addicts. We tend to know other users, draw them too us. Don’t care what they use, hard core fiends find me. I find them too, especially when I’m not really looking. We find each other, that’s just what we do. Still the funny thing is, not even many junkies, a woman to boot have my particular propensity and passion of writing, especially in odd places. Am a rare species. Lots or most of us have some sort of artistic bent like sketching, drawing, painting, creating music, graphic art, sales, clothing, interior design-that sort of thing-But I’ve yet to meet another female addict that makes writing her thing. It’s now 5:00pm. Stomach upset. Slightly queasy.
Such a lovely day out. Am so glad I came here. Its been ages since I’ve watched the beauty of sunset. Love the way the sun feels against my skin. What should I do now? Where shall I go? Was thinking about healing the anger-if nothing else don’t want no hard feelings. Am mellow, perhaps it could heal—or if not—a note left telling her (Aimee) “Hope you’re all right. Sorry you went through this. Love, Tanya.”
(A few weeks prior harsh words were exchanged between Aimee and I. I was wanting to apologize and approach her for forgiveness, but wasn’t counting on it.)
Short and sweet. Maybe add a hug—Why not hugs are drugs. Feel better. Stay well. Or something like that?
I did write out the short and sweet note to Aimee Lynn. Gonna make the trek to her house. Let the journey begin. 5:20pm
The gram of magic dust is sweet and subtle—but I’m under the influence all right. It’s mild and mellow. That’s fine by me. It’s beautiful out here. The sun goin down. Another hour dusk will appear.
Tears coming to my eyes watching the beauty of a man and his dog at play. The dog is so happy. Fetching a Frisbee, running happily, as he shakes off the water from when he frolicked in the creek. Dogs are so simple and so pure. Who else can feel so happy and content? I swear if he could, that dog would be laughing the way kids do at play. Kids and dogs don’t need drugs to be happy—at least when I was growing up we didn’t. Sadly, that’s changed radically today. I feel for Cody, Aimee’s son. He’s only 13 or 14 and already has done pot, speed, and LSD. God bless you, child. You shouldn’t be condemned to go through this at least not til you’re 35 or like me, 42.
I feel the sadness and the ills of the world. It doesn’t have to be this way.
5:35pm---
Once when I was 21 or 22 I went for a couple of drinks with this guy I knew that was about 35. Anyway, he was deep---a Pisces—always trying to get into people’s heads. Well he kept trying to delve deep into mine, kept probing, asking questions like “If you could have anything in the world—anything at all—what would you want? What would you do?”
I think I said something like having the perfect body and knowing what I want to do with my life, but he said, “No, if you had that, but had the power 2 do anything, what would you do?” He persisted. I never thought about it til that night, but finally he got me to say, “If I could, I’d reach out to all those damaged by pain, mentally and physically, I’d want to heal them so no one in the world would have to suffer anymore. I’d take their pain away. I’d wanna be a mother chicken, take all those in pain under my wing---And make them whole again.”
Guess that’s why I became a nurse and started off going to college to become a licensed psychologist. But alas, Dad and I didn’t get along. No way I’d have stayed under his roof for 7 yrs to get a masters degree or P.h.D. And also, didn’t want to sacrifice my 20’s. I wanted to party. Look at me now. I’m a financial failure for sure. How did I end up a full fledged junkie? Oh well, what’s done is done. I made my own destiny. The choices I made have brought me here & made me who I am today. I could have been many other things I suppose. What addict or ex addict hasn’t wondered what they might have become had their choices been different?
I’m seeing lovely doubles as the words are put on this paper by this pen!
5:55pm
It’s starting to get cold. I’m watching a beautiful sunset. What a lovely sight to behold! The visuals are sweet! They are subtle. I see little particles floating in the air. I think they are nats? Oh hell maybe not. No question homegirl be trippin! YAHOO!!! Gonna head to Aimee’s. Hope she don’t yell at me.
End trip.
Epilogue: Aimee didn’t yell at me. I arrived at her house and it felt as if she knew I was on the apology wavelength. We held each other in each other’s arms and cried and forgave each other. I think I had some kind of prophetic feeling on a subconscious level that one day I might be healed from my drug addiction, though I didn’t believe that consciencely. I had been told on another mushroom trip prior to that last one that one day I would stop, though I didn’t believe it, but it came true.
Clean and sober since 12/21/06
3/22/06
Got off work @ 7am. I took the bus to the pharmacy and asked the pharmacist to lend me 8 of my Rx painkillers, which he did. My credit is good with my dealers, licit and illicit, hehe. Then I took the bus to Hillcrest Park, as I decided it would be a good place to take shrooms. I had an empty stomach. The little bit of crystal meth I'd done earlier was wearin off, while the painkillers kicked in a mild, pleasant buzz. However, there was a delay in actually taking the shrooms, as I had to call work to see what it was they wanted to talk to be about before proceeding. Then I had to call my Mom.
After that I held off another 5 hours only cause this dickhead cocksucker Mexican creep for whatever God forsaken reason would not leave me the fuck alone. I mean he saw me sitting under the tree obviously wanting privacy by the way I was ignoring him. Then he asked me the time & I made it clear that having any sort of conversation was unwanted, so he walked off presumably on about his business, but remained lurking not far away, fucking watching and listening to my phone calls.
So I got up, moved way the fuck away, gave him extremely foul looks and glares and thought how satisfying it would be to ram my foot knocking his teeth down his throat. Five hrs later I see that he is obviously pissed off because I had purposely kept my distance. At some point he drove off in his truck. He was nonverbally communicating to me he was bent at my rejection and I was nonverbally communicating to him to fuck off. I can’t for the life of me figure out who’d want a middle aged, slightly overweight broad wearing baggy jeans, no make up, clearly wanting to be left the fuck alone.
At 3pm I found a spot, sat down, and finally ate what was hopefully magic dust from the bag. It is 3:30pm now. I have asked to be allowed a momentary connection with nature, with Universe, with God. I am intuitive sober, at times a bit more on painkillers or meth, depending if it’s the right dose or not. Otherwise, since turning 40, the trips I’ve taken on shrooms are a lot more pure and true in a spiritual sense that they were the times I tripped when I was age 23-28.
I don’t know if in fact I’ll find what I seek on this trip. God help me, I hope so. I need some insight. I need help to achieve the power to carry the will of God for me out. The magic dust of the gods is like a direct telephone line to call upon the benevolent guides of the spiritual plane. So here I am. Jesus, God, Universe, please talk to me. I beg you to help me overcome this split division in my heart. The flesh is so damn weak. Please help me overcome this damn obstacle, let me be free. Please…
(I think I was referring to being hopelessly strung out on dope and all the negative mental baggage I had to date been carrying around for so long)
Granted then, God, I will accept whatever it is-or not-You want to say to me. Please open my heart. I want to hear You. Please take me to You. My sweet Lord. Last trip Jesus, You came to me. You and I need to be alone. Please let me for today, let me come Home. I need guidance Lord. Help please. Then I beg that Your angels may put Your strength in me, in order that I may carry out Your will—whatever that may be. Half my life here on earth is over. Please help me to be whatever it is You want from me.
I pray that You help me. The time is now. Lord, time is swiftly running out. I beg You please don’t let my pleasures of the flesh and my blasted mental blocks win. I only hope I can and will do Your will before my time here on earth is thru. Thank you Jesus. Amen.
It is now 4:00pm. Don’t feel anything really yet. Can’t remember for sure, but I think I took these shrooms an hour ago. Don’t feel nothing. Guess I’ll find out if what I took will lead me to You. I will seek. I shall look. I love you.
4:17pm—Could be my imagination. Perhaps maybe feel very subtle effects. The beginnings of said effects, if indeed that is the case. Very slight “butterfly” feeling in my stomach. Slight feeling of well being.
I love the warmth of the sun and the feel of the wind as the breeze caresses my face. The park is lovely. I wish I could posess the ability to appreciate and enjoy a simple afternoon sober like I can now. Oh well, for now let me let go and receive God’s blessing.
That dick head Mexican creep came back, at least I think it was the same dude? He walked on by me—said hi—but I nonverbally communicated to him somehow that my rejection of his advances was nothing personal. He seems to have picked up the mellow vibes I sent out and they were better received cause he is respecting my distance but he’s no longer pissed off. I mentally told him no offense, I just needed time alone. He’s letting me be. : ) He saw me writing on this pad—homegirl (yours truly) be scribbling away. : )
Maybe he’s picking up the “Oh it’s one of them writer type species. Rare indeed. Writers must write. Let the homegirl proceed.” Or maybe I’m just freakin stoned. LMAO.
I’m a bit off, even for a drug addict. How often you see or hear about addicted chicks when high sit and type or write like hell wouldn’t have it? Especially in public places. Lots of us chemical romancers of the most devoted kind practice odd behaviors such as taking shit apart, losing their keys, go dumpster diving, stealing, on curtain patrol looking out windows every 5 seconds and seein shit that isn’t there, or nodding out in Poppy Land. We junkies are a breed apart. : ). In spite of our flaws, I think a lot of us are good at heart.
The homeboy came back & parked a few minutes across from the oval pit. Again he sees what I do. I thought, “Oh fuck, not again.” Good, he picked up his backpack and rode away on his bike. He’s on foot, then he’s driving his truck, now his bike. What’s up with that? He’s gonna leave me be. That wot I like. : ) Still, I’ve obviously sparked this wet back’s curiosity.
As junkies, it’s amusing that it’s as if our behaviors are being watched and studied under a microscope, even if non users don’t know we are members of “The Addict Family.” We must appear peculiar indeed. Oh man, let’s see what this irritating aggressive fuck is up to now. I’m being watched. I can’t see him, but I sense him. I’m being studied. Perhaps he too is a dope enthusiast. Most normal guys would leave this strange lady and her likewise strange behaviors alone. If he’s an addict then on some level I sense he must know that I am too.
Addicts tend to find other addicts. We tend to know other users, draw them too us. Don’t care what they use, hard core fiends find me. I find them too, especially when I’m not really looking. We find each other, that’s just what we do. Still the funny thing is, not even many junkies, a woman to boot have my particular propensity and passion of writing, especially in odd places. Am a rare species. Lots or most of us have some sort of artistic bent like sketching, drawing, painting, creating music, graphic art, sales, clothing, interior design-that sort of thing-But I’ve yet to meet another female addict that makes writing her thing. It’s now 5:00pm. Stomach upset. Slightly queasy.
Such a lovely day out. Am so glad I came here. Its been ages since I’ve watched the beauty of sunset. Love the way the sun feels against my skin. What should I do now? Where shall I go? Was thinking about healing the anger-if nothing else don’t want no hard feelings. Am mellow, perhaps it could heal—or if not—a note left telling her (Aimee) “Hope you’re all right. Sorry you went through this. Love, Tanya.”
(A few weeks prior harsh words were exchanged between Aimee and I. I was wanting to apologize and approach her for forgiveness, but wasn’t counting on it.)
Short and sweet. Maybe add a hug—Why not hugs are drugs. Feel better. Stay well. Or something like that?
I did write out the short and sweet note to Aimee Lynn. Gonna make the trek to her house. Let the journey begin. 5:20pm
The gram of magic dust is sweet and subtle—but I’m under the influence all right. It’s mild and mellow. That’s fine by me. It’s beautiful out here. The sun goin down. Another hour dusk will appear.
Tears coming to my eyes watching the beauty of a man and his dog at play. The dog is so happy. Fetching a Frisbee, running happily, as he shakes off the water from when he frolicked in the creek. Dogs are so simple and so pure. Who else can feel so happy and content? I swear if he could, that dog would be laughing the way kids do at play. Kids and dogs don’t need drugs to be happy—at least when I was growing up we didn’t. Sadly, that’s changed radically today. I feel for Cody, Aimee’s son. He’s only 13 or 14 and already has done pot, speed, and LSD. God bless you, child. You shouldn’t be condemned to go through this at least not til you’re 35 or like me, 42.
I feel the sadness and the ills of the world. It doesn’t have to be this way.
5:35pm---
Once when I was 21 or 22 I went for a couple of drinks with this guy I knew that was about 35. Anyway, he was deep---a Pisces—always trying to get into people’s heads. Well he kept trying to delve deep into mine, kept probing, asking questions like “If you could have anything in the world—anything at all—what would you want? What would you do?”
I think I said something like having the perfect body and knowing what I want to do with my life, but he said, “No, if you had that, but had the power 2 do anything, what would you do?” He persisted. I never thought about it til that night, but finally he got me to say, “If I could, I’d reach out to all those damaged by pain, mentally and physically, I’d want to heal them so no one in the world would have to suffer anymore. I’d take their pain away. I’d wanna be a mother chicken, take all those in pain under my wing---And make them whole again.”
Guess that’s why I became a nurse and started off going to college to become a licensed psychologist. But alas, Dad and I didn’t get along. No way I’d have stayed under his roof for 7 yrs to get a masters degree or P.h.D. And also, didn’t want to sacrifice my 20’s. I wanted to party. Look at me now. I’m a financial failure for sure. How did I end up a full fledged junkie? Oh well, what’s done is done. I made my own destiny. The choices I made have brought me here & made me who I am today. I could have been many other things I suppose. What addict or ex addict hasn’t wondered what they might have become had their choices been different?
I’m seeing lovely doubles as the words are put on this paper by this pen!
5:55pm
It’s starting to get cold. I’m watching a beautiful sunset. What a lovely sight to behold! The visuals are sweet! They are subtle. I see little particles floating in the air. I think they are nats? Oh hell maybe not. No question homegirl be trippin! YAHOO!!! Gonna head to Aimee’s. Hope she don’t yell at me.
End trip.
Epilogue: Aimee didn’t yell at me. I arrived at her house and it felt as if she knew I was on the apology wavelength. We held each other in each other’s arms and cried and forgave each other. I think I had some kind of prophetic feeling on a subconscious level that one day I might be healed from my drug addiction, though I didn’t believe that consciencely. I had been told on another mushroom trip prior to that last one that one day I would stop, though I didn’t believe it, but it came true.
Clean and sober since 12/21/06
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