I started writing this in response to something I saw in the Kratom Megathread, but it turned into a rant so I decided to post it here. It had to do with different people choosing different drugs - aka one man's treasure being another man's poison. Well, my treasures, pleasure and poisons change every now and again. But I'm just frustrated with trying to find a solution. Yeah, I for example, wouldn't be able to function on average doses of cannabis on a day-to-day basis... it just doesn't affect me well, my work would suffer (hell, it already suffers because I don't give a shit about my work, actually, while originally liking it, I have change my views about things politically over the years, and have now come to loathe over 50% of what I do at my job - I'm at least 15 mins late everyday bc I can't even get the fuck out of bed in the morning due to no motivation), hence one of the many reasons of my using/addiction of other stuff (mainly oxy/hydro/Kratom) - in order to make myself actually want to feel productive at work and pretend I like it, because I can like almost anything when I'm high, or least could care less about the shit I don't like about it... until the tolerance rises, I get addicted, need to withdraw (which makes me even more unproductive again) and I have then to find my next temporary solution. I actually get up easier in the mornings when I'm taking something because I'm at least excited to take my temporary DOC. Cannabis would never be one for me though these days. Most stims give me too much anxiety now to enjoy enough to be useful on (unless I'm drinking with them - which I would never do at work). Hence why I love oxy/hydro, and then loved and still love Kratom now. It never used to be that way though when it came to stims... when I started back in high school with a prescription of Ritalin for ADD (a completely bogus diagnosis), I felt they were the greatest thing ever. I couldn't wait to take it with my morning eggs, OJ and multivitamin. Little did I know at the time what was actually going on. I actually partly blame my docs for introducing me to the drug life, the hard-drug scene. Sure I liked drinking, and I loved smoking pot at the time, the music appreciation and creativity and relaxation that came from it. I learned psychedelic blues guitar all on my own with no lessons thanks to pot (trying to learn jazz and Indian now - hard as hell! Especially as I hate dealing with music theory an the names of all the noted and scales and chords and shit - can't remember what's what for shit - I just go by patterns and sounds). But I digress... anyway, I did and do have an open-mind when it came to drugs and actually got and still get high on the thought alone of doing other drugs ( though I've always stuck with the "classics" and am not a fan of the idea of new "designer drugs"), introducing other people to other drugs, and being loved and accepted for it, was and still is an actual fantasy of mine that kinda gets me high all on its own. I tried shrooms, I tried acid, and found them to be great mind-expanders. It really made me think, why has the government lied to us about these wonderful things? But it was the docs, those "professionals", all those PCP's who got me to love the artificial highs and going to places like school and work. They didn't know what the fuck they were doing. They still don't. Looking back, I simply was, and still am to a degree, just a shy, sensitive, intuitive and very laid-back introvert, and at the time adolescent, who didn't quite conform to "popularity's standards"... and was just having a hard time dealing with normal teenager bullshit trying to fit in... still trying to fit in to the standards of my peers (and not succeeding), especially after moving to a new town freshman year of high school. I work out dress nice, but my own style (jeans and flannel, button downs - I usually don't tuck my shirt in at work even though I'm always told to - no, they can go fuck thsmelves).
Meanwhile, my higher than average IQ combined with my independent intuition and individualized interests made me bored and frustrated with the common core curriculum, and certainly kept me from being what cold be considered a grade A student. To everyone, including the docs and my parents... I just needed to take "something" for my psycholigical issues because "some people just need to take something". "Some people just need chemical help". It couldn't have just been that I was a unique type of person with a different type of learning curve or different interests in life. Nah, couldn't have been that. Call it resentment, all it unresolved anger, call it whatever you want - it's not justification, it's truth at it's core. My chemical balance was off they said. According to their diagnosis, I had generalized anxiety disorder, social phobia, chronic depression, seasonal-affectve depression, ADD (or apparently to them in their notes, ADHD - complete bullshit. I was and still am probably one of the most laid-back, slow paced, spaced out people you could ever meet), and was possibly bipolar they said - though they didn't tell me that at the time. Bipolar? Yes that's right, my doc went so far as to say they thought I was bipolar at one point - but never told me, and still to this day never showed me any evidence as to why they thought this. I never even found out until years later. At one time, I worked in a halfway house for mostly schizophrenics at one point, but one woman there was bipolar. Like, REALLY bipolar. Now I saw with my own eyes what bipolar is and can do to a person. These docs look for any little thing to diagnose people with, just so they can make a case and prescribe their next money-maker. They demonize shit like LSD and MDMA to death and then prescribe a "possibly bipolar adolescent" with a daily vitamin regime of Zoloft and Ritalin and Xanax and Vitamin D2 and Bullshitamenophen combined with a controlled dose of Moneymakamodil, all to fix these "mental disorders" and balance each other out. Like I said above, I loved Ritalin when they first prescribed it. I loved it every morning. It made me high, horny, energetic, confident, able to actually give a shit about my schoolwork for once... everything great. To me, basing my beliefs off of what I was told by the "professionals" it was a miracle drug - my ADD was "fixed". I felt "normal" now! Or did I? I had no idea it was actually making me *high* because I didn't actually have ADD, but because my grades improved (temporarily), well, whose grades wouldn't improve on a freshly-started short term spout of stims; and yet that was their evidence, their proof - I had ADD (or ADHD, or whatever). So they kept me on it, my tolerance grew, they upped my dose, my tolerance grew more, they upped my dose more, the good effects slowly started to fade and then the anxiety came... the paranoia, the sweating, the lack of appetite, the cracked out feeling of needing more and more just to feel "okay"... even staying away for long periods since those days... the stim experience has never been the same since. Meth is demonized but Adderall is okay. Cocaine is evil, but Wellbutrin is safe and effective and FDA approved. Here I thought the Ritalin/Concerta was working because I was told I had ADD which my 16 year old naive self verbally agreed with with the doc (but they actually wrote down "ADHD" in their little notepads in secret). I told them in no way could I have had ADHD... just ADD... I'm probably one of the most spaced out, laid back people ever... hyperactive my ass... so when I got copies of my med records many years later when I was considering joining the military (worst mistake I never made... thank god), I couldn't believe the shit that I saw they had written about me... I actually got snippy at my doc when I saw it all and was like, are you fucking kidding me, this is what you were writing about me? This was your diagnosis of me? Are you guys fucking sick in the head? Readin the stuff they had wrote about me, you would think I was borderline psychward material. It's unreal how some docs look at their patients. I have since traveled parts the world all on my own, with nothing more than a school-size backpack, lived on my own in a developing country for 4 months, had multiple successes with women (the first and last era o my life with success in that area of my life), graduated college and got my BA in Anthropology with a 3.4 GPA - with NO MEDS WHATSOEVER - I had taken myself off at that point. Because I realized... at those points, I was doing what I wanted to do. I was in my element. I was barely even doing any illegal drugs either, aside from the little recreational thing here or there. I didn't need to.
Now though... I'm back in the rut. I work at a job I could care less about, because it's what I'm supposed to do for security, a salary, a pension... and here I am unable to get through a day without the need for a high, which most recently has been a combination of Kratom, large amounts of Coca leaf, Nootropics, Ketamine, Potion 9's, Valium, Phenibut... before that, dextroamphetamine (usually mixed with one or more downers to counteract the anxiety), oxycodone (my love), and/or any combination of the above... Whatever I can get my hands on. Kratom was/is #1 most recently, but have been trying to lay off - at the moment I have a feeling I'm experiencing residual effects of Phenibut withdrawal, from using a bit too much the past week, but I can't really be sure. But whatever. It's just out of control. I need help, but these treatment centers don't do shit, they just sit there and stare at me, compliment me on how introspective I am, since I apparently do/already did all their work for them after telling them all about my subconscious and self-analysis, and how I know so much about myself so well, and then I will tell them a large part of how I learned so much about myself is because of my occasional, responsible, solo psychedelic use for personal and spiritual growth reasons, which helps give me insight about myself and life... and they can only respond by glaring at me with this look on their face as if I had just unzipped my fly and took a piss on their fucking desk while weeping in agony at the fact that something other than a fucking NA meeting could offer any kind of solution.
I still don't know the roots of my addictions... I know I gets bouts of social anxiety in certain situations (not all - I hate clubs or large groups of people, but like small pubs or places where I am doing something... like socializing at work is a lot easier than socializing out of work, even with the same people, for instance), boredom, unfulfillment, lack of success with women, having no friends (my few closest friends all moved way years ago - I'm still here, luckily I'm close with my little brother despite him only being 17). Also, lack of acceptance into mainstream society despite my ability to apparently get people to like me easily (when in comfortable situations that are right for ME) = but apparently, I;m laid-back and easy to talk to, but still never get invites out! This all contributes. This is why I feel I need an Iboga treatment... I feel it's the only thing that may help me go even deeper, to find the answers within myself. I have hints, I have this here, that there... but I need deeper, more direct answers. Ayahuasca helped introduce me to the divine, to what is out there, and beyond. It helped me learn divinity. It helped me learn to fufill my destiny in this life, I must rid myself of my fears, but I still don't know how. I know working hard (I've never been a typically hard-working person - Ayahuasca, LSD and mushrooms all made me feel guilty over this, and so this must mean something - wanting to work hard - to help people, is part of it. But I know I have nver worked hard because I never followed my heart in my work, and I would easily get bored when staying stagnant in one place for too long. I must have had 25 different part time jobs by the end of my second year in college. Besides being introduced to the divine, to the Infinite, that much I was shown by Ayahuasca - to work hard, and be a good, hard-working, responsible person in helping others. But doing what? I just don't know. That's why I think I am leaving my job to join the Peace Corps, and will follow that up by leaving to continue traveling and see what the universe helps me discover with odd jobs along the way across the globe, as I for once in my life, allow myself, my gut, my heart, and my intuition to guide me, using my brain only as a tool to direct me as best I can along the way, rather than relying on only my brain's logic and parent's influences to make my life decisions for me. Any one person is their own best therapist... these counselors don't know shit about me and tell me crap I already learned about myself 5 years ago, and then say, well just go on an SSRI... no doctor fuck you, I've ben on 96456 of them already and I already told you and the last 3 therapists that you work with at this treatment center that they don't work, they just numb me out and don't give me answers. It's just a cover-up to zombify me so I could care less about the awareness of being a slave to the system 5 days a week for the Man when I could be living a life that as far as I know I am only give once. I believe this is why I need a good candyflip, followed by a good Iboga trip, followed by leaving to find my way, leaving security behind. The hardest part will be leaving my family to do it and having no one to fall back on, but I will survive, I have to. Hoping The candyflip and Iboga will help guide and show me part of the way of working through this quarter-life crises of mine.
Sorry, long post, long rant. Fuck it. It's late, and I'm probably gonna be late again to work again tomorrow. Fuck it all, I don't even care anymore. My boss is late everyday but tell me I can;t be late. He can be late because he's the director and my supervisor. Well I'm a supervisor too. He's my boss, but guess what, the town manager is his boss. Does the town manager care that he's late? He' a supervisor so he can be late. But he needs me there on time. Well I'm a supervisor, so I can late too. How is that Mr. Bossman? By the way, all those days I called out sick, I wasn;t really sick. I was either tripping on shrooms or jerking off while thinking of your wife and/or your side-chick who also happens to be your subordinate coworker. Oops? Did I say that out loud?
And this is why I take drugs.
If any of the mods want to move this specific post to another thread like mental health or sober living, feel free lol. For real.
