I know I've been a rain on the parade of the workout brigade. But it's really hard to get across that for some minority of people upping testosterone feeds the demon first. It's only now I've done the Lorenzo's Oil thing on myself, which still feels surreal and needs proper time for its meaning to sink in, that exercise is starting to make sense.
I should apologize, but I really can't, so I won't! It only makes sense for people who have followed up on the madness. But so yeah, here's some love for getting high on sheer oxygen.
Stories of losses aren't strange to me either. But deaths in the family came with some extreme madness on top, and I struggle to put it in relatable terms. If there's a book in me to write, it's probably to explain the intense depths of complexity and absurdity that festered underneath the obvious scars people usually get to see. My first ever mushroom trip having the mushroom tell me to just kill everyone didn't help, and additionally put me in the bloody insane role of having to teach the psilocybin mushroom something instead of it having to teach me. Of course the mushroom was right that I needed distance from everything as much and as soon as possible, but it would have been nice if it would have thought of the consequences of putting it to me as direct hellish confrontation.
Much more detail and nuance that needs to go into of course. Like I said, there's a book in there. Hope I'm not freaking anybody out by disclosing this much. It's just that I see people's distress and I want to reach out with a reciprocating story, but I really can't without opening up the biggest rabbit hole my mind has ever conceived. Long story short, I feel ya people. Take care.
I've had close friends who were deep into self-destructive addiction, and it sucks, such a helpless feeling. In my family I'm that guy, well I was. 
