Hm. So much to tell.
Yeah, this got really long and involves a lot more than just being caught by my parents. After writing it all down though, I realize how chill my parents were about all my drug stuff. I don't think I was ever grounded, I just had to spend a lot of time in therapy and a lot of time feeling guilty about how worried I made my parents.
Anyway, here's my story:
So, when I was in high school (age 17-18) I got transferred out of district to a therapeutic day school for "emotionally fragile children" Yeah, real fucking special, huh? I never had done drugs before going to that school, but because the population was made up of teenagers that were depressed, self-injured, drank and did drugs, and refused to go to school- I was basically surrounded and figured why the hell not. That's when I started to get into weed, DXM, and various other pills (mostly benzos) that I was able to get off the other students there.
I went through almost all of my senior year getting high with all of the teachers, administrators, and therapeutic staff at my school knowing- without anything ever getting back to my parents. Towards the end of the school year, I was making nightly runs to the local drug store to pick up a bottle of zicam max at least 3-4 times a week. I had a lot of great trips and somehow never got caught. Well.... until.... a few days after graduation- I was due to be admitted to a residential eating disorder program and decided I would go out with a bang. My mom had gone somewhere for the weekend and would be back on Monday to drive me to the facility, so I was home alone with my dad working late. Perfect opportunity to have an amazing trip... I bought 2 bottles of zicam max and a bottle or two or cough gels and down them all in an attempt to reach the 4th plateau, I took maybe 1200-1500mg DXM and would've been fine had I not decided to take a call from my mom just as I was peaking and starting to trip hardcore. Within a 2 minute phone call, just as I was about to say goodbye and hang-up, I passed out and my mom knew something was up. Cue the police breaking into my house and taking me to the hospital unconscious.... waking up with the doctors standing over me asking what I've taken and me slowly getting out D....X.....M.... and them having no idea what it was. (This was circa 2005, before the cough syrup trend really hit)
That was when my mom finally found out that I did DXM and the empty robo bottle that she had found in my room a month or two earlier wasn't my friends as I had claimed. But, I didn't get a talk, no punishment, just a lot of worry- but I guess since I was going into residential that Monday anyway, my parents figured that they'd straighten me out there. Haha, that didn't happen though.
Somewhere in my DXM career in the time period that I wasn't driving, I used to get my dad to drive me to the local bookstore to "read for a few hours". The real reason I went so often was because there was a drug store next door. This worked a few times, until one day I was standing in line with a few bottles of cough gels and guess who gets in line behind me- my fucking dad. He didn't see me at first, so I just paid and high-tailed it out of there, but as I was going through the exit, my dad spots me and then the shit hit the fan.
I managed to throw out my stash before my dad got out of the store, but because I wouldn't tell him what I had bought- a screaming match ensued right there outside the store on the sidewalk. Eventually, he took me home and I thought I was in the clear because I never told him what I bought. However, he went back to the store and found my bag in the garbage and brought it home for my mom to see. Ughhhhh. I think at that point my parents already knew I did DXM but thought I had stopped.
I didn't really get in trouble, just my parents lost a lot of trust in me.
I started college the following Fall and had a few close calls with security when I was high on Ambien or Klonopin plus alcohol, I think they were called on me twice because people thought that I had attempted suicide- when in reality, I was just high as hell and blacked out. I never got a citation for either of the calls and continued enjoying myself- smoking copious amounts of weed, doing DXM, drinking etc. Oh and a failed attempt at mushrooms. Again, never caught.... UNTIL I had to leave college mid-semester because of my eating disorder and my bitch suitemates told the RA that I was doing GHB (wtf? I think they confused DXM with GHB) and then when the same suitemates were packing up my stuff, they must've been snooping because they found my brand new glass pipe and stash of weed which they also handed over to the RA. What kills me is that I saved 2 of my suitemates from alcohol poisoning and citations/drug counseling and always had their backs- but they snitched on me for god knows why.
When I had to go up to the college to talk to the board of who knows what to gain re-entrance to the college, that's when they brought out pictures of my pipe and weed.... in front of my parents. My parents are pretty cool with smoking so it wasn't a huge deal- they were more mad at my suitemates for going through my stuff and ratting me out.
The next semester, I took time off to work and get my shit together. I ended up meeting up with a bunch of guys from the area who I knew were into DXM and I later found out were into heroin as well. I had a great time, working a great job doing something I loved that gave great pay and even better tips- and by night, I would go hang out with my new group to get high in random apartments. Eventually, I agreed to try heroin and fell in love. This was all good and dandy until we got some fentanyl-laced heroin one night that I overdosed on. I had taken a week off of h and maybe my tolerance was really down or maybe it was just really strong stuff, but I went from feeling really damn good to waking up in the hospital with an IV coming out of my neck. At the hospital, they couldn't find anything in my urine tox screen, but I think my friends had already told them it was h. When my parents came, I told them I had smoked some bad weed and they bought it- until a bitch nurse overheard and told me to tell them the truth.
So that was the night my parents found out about my heroin experimentation. They really weren't mad, just worried. And they kept letting me hang out with that group of friends for some reason.
Maybe a month later, after a day at the beach taking DXM, Klonopin, and doing some heroin I was home all comfy in my bed when one of the guys calls me to say that he left his cell in my car and I need to drive back to give it to him. I thought I was pretty much sober, so I went for it- but I obviously wasn't as sober as I thought because not only did I get lost in the 5 minute drive, but I never actually made it to the guy's house to give him his cell and on the way back to my house- 2 blocks away!!!- I nodded out behind the wheel and slammed into a parked car. Luckily it was 2-3am and no one was hurt, but of course the police came. I should've kept my bags of h hidden in my wallet, but in panic I tried to throw them. At first, the police believed that I had just gotten dizzy and passed out behind the wheel and were ready to let me go, but then one of the cops comes walking over with the bags of h and tells me that someone saw me throw them (now I know he was most likely lying about having an eye witness) and I fessed up to them being mine. So instead of just a trip to the hospital, I was handcuffed and got a trip to the hospital for blood testing because of a suspected DUI. (Later turns out that somehow all my bloodwork came back clean and they dropped the DUI all together) However, I was still given a drug posession and paraphenila charge and a DUI charge that night.... and to my surprise, I got featured in the police blotter in my town's newspaper a few days later. Walking into work the day after the blotter came out- I was called into my boss' office and shown the story and fired right then and there. Oops.
Again, my parents weren't really angry- it was awkward at first, more because I was embarassed, but they took it really well. I paid my fines, did the court thing and now my parents are helping me get it expunged. Oh, and to this day- because my tox screen came back clean, my parents think that I had a seizure behind the wheel and that's what made me crash. (In later years, I developed a seizure disorder) Whatever they want to believe, I guess!
After the car crashing incident, I was deeply suicidal and convinced my friend to let me take home 3 bags with the intention of overdosing. It worked, but my dad found me the following morning barely breathing and completely blue. Cue waking up in an ambulance after a shot of narcan. Oh, and getting served drug possession charges by the police while still in the ICU a few days later. My dad had agreed to let the police search my room and they found 2 empty bags and the third bag with a little left. It still baffles me that the police in my town would be desperate enough to meet their quota to actually charge someone because of their suicide attempt.
Again, parents were more worried than anything. Still no reprecussions. But that was the last time I did h.
Blahblahblah a lot of time went past, involving abusing my prescription adderall/dexedrine/klonopin/ativan/ambien and eventually after getting in with a pain management doctor, abusing my prescription opana/oxycodone/fentanyl patches. I never once got caught, except by my brother a few times when he would tell me that there was blue on my nose (from snorting the oxy)- but my brother is into drugs and is cool with that stuff, so it was no big deal. 2 years after starting the opiates though, I became psychotic and thought everyone could read my thoughts and that I was on a reality TV show. (This was last summer) So, finally at my pain management appointment- I told the dr that I was abusing my pain meds (the voices told me that he already knew and I believed them lol) and he took me off the oxy, but left me on the patch. Oh, did I mention that my mom was sitting in on my appointment? That was the first time she had any inkling that I was misusing my prescriptions.
Oddly, she told me how proud she was of me for coming clean and wasn't mad at all that I had been abusing the meds.
It gets worse. A few weeks later, at my psychiatrist appointment (same delusions) I came clean and told him that I was abusing my dexedrine. He promptly pulled me off of it and he lost a lot of trust in me. Too bad his license was suspended a few months later and the other dr in the practice had no problem giving me back my dexedrine and other fun meds. lol
Somewhere in that time frame, I was admitted to a psych hospital for the voices and as part of my discharge plan, I agreed to go into a psych partial program. A week or 2 into the program, I was re-admitted to the psych unit (still on the fentanyl patch) and was convinced the fentanyl was placebo and asked the dr if I could detox from it. So I went through a week+ of detox hell and going on 6 months of PAWS for nothing basically. If not for the voices, I could have gone on with a near unlimited supply of opiates, stimulants, benzos, and muscle relaxants for who knows how long. Fucking psychosis.
I guess the last few incidents didn't really involve getting caught, more involved my being psychotic and stupidly telling the truth to the wrong people.
going to keep a close eye on him, hide my valium, though i did hand him a last 10mg dose and just keep feeding him coffee in an attempt to keep him awake and alert as possible. i really dont want to have to call 000 on the premise of my father overdosing. not on a beautiful day like today!
100mg for him, 400mg Iv for me spread into 2 separate shots over the day.
