Okay. I was going to consider them, but considering that I regularly visited this place I thought I might start there because of its sense of locality. Apologies in advance if I don't correctly use the right resources provided in the site, but in my defense I haven't been on in 10 months. Any way, I'll add a little about my addiction and if you want you can ask; Just a quick disclaimer, first, I don't intend to impose any exaggeration on my experiences, and I'll try to tell it as accurately as I can out of respect for people who genuinely have had it far worse than I did.
I started getting huge histamine attacks from codeine, so I moved to poppy seed tea. Eventually, quite quickly, it got carried away and when my Mom gave me access to that precious 2 grand in my savings account (around January) the problem turned full-blown. The two-grand was spent quickly, in about a month, as I was taking 1.5kg-3kg of poppy seeds per dose twice a day. I started getting suicidal thoughts, but I'd always go out and brew tea in my car (i found a super quick way in which I could extract huge amounts of seeds in 5-15 minutes) and it sort of prevented me from ever doing it. Well, eventually my parents caught on again with my drug addiction and my Mom didn't really care any more. She had tried to help me earlier, and she just said "Don't steal from us and we don't care about your addiction." Well, when I spent the 2 grand I tried quitting. Boy, that lasted a day. I quickly snatched 10 dollars from my parents' drawer and found ways of minimalising my costs over the next month or so before my Mom noticed that I had pawned my GPS, acoustic guitar and a bunch of other shit. My Step Dad loathed me for my usage, and with reason, but he made it very hard for me to live there. I moved to my brother's place for a bit, where I begged him for 50 dollars and needed his help after my car ran out of fuel. I returned home one night to my Mom's place high as fuck on poppy seeds i took in my car and I was having huge breathing problems. I felt like I was going to overdose, but I didn't care at the time. I went to watch TV - but the dvd player was gone because my step dad had hidden it. I thought "I'm going to jump on the computer" and I did so, but my step dad turned off the internet. I started having a panic attack and after a huge altercation I was quickly driven back to my Brother's place in a taxi.
I stayed at my Brother's place for a while, claiming to go out to University when I was really out stealing and brewing tea. This went on for a few days when my Brother came home to me nodding off. He didn't really notice, but he told me that I couldn't stay at his place any more because it was too packed. Although he was perfectly right in saying so, as the house had 5 residents excluding me, I nodded off before waking up in a state of panic. To cut it short, I tried to kill myself after getting into a fight with my brother but I got high instead and drove back my Brother's place. As it turns out, 5 police knocked on the door and I was quickly sent to the psych ward. They kept me over night because I was nodding off and couldn't concentrate.
I wasn't sure what to do when I woke up, but I was directed by a friendly nurse to wait for my doctor which I did so. I met some lady who started going crazy after waiting 15 minutes, and I told her to shut the hell up because I had been sitting in the same waiting room for well over 2 hours and I was still content in my poppy-induced high. Anyway, the doctor eventually came and I told him some truth about my story, lying only in the effort of getting out of there. Fortunately, the doctor said I should stay in the Hospital and I started panicking. He asked "are you going to go through drug withdrawals?", and I naturally responded yes, and he was quick to feed me valium which kept me content as I waited to be up into the psych ward.
The whole event of the psych ward was traumatizing, but the valium helped make it a huge blur. My Mom visited and my Dad and family soon learned the severity of my addiction when I was vomiting and in general sick from withdrawals which I had never met to such an extent before. I met some characters who had their brains fried and had it worse than me, and they helped me get through my 8 day withdrawal hell by calling nurses and in general giving me comfort.
Well, after 8 days I was discharged from the ward and put on anti-depressants. I was on cloud-nine knowing that I was finally through the physical withdrawals. I've had a feq problems since, such as panic attacks and anxiety, as well as one bout of benzo abuse, but other than that I'm feeling good. Sorry for the long post. I still have insomnia, and I thought I might bore fellow insomniacs with my silly story. Life could be worse, much worse, even without drugs, and I'm lucky to have been given the treatment that I was given and get out before it was too late. I'm getting into art and philosophy now after having to quit Uni and work, and I spend my time catching up with old friends and building new bridges.
