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TDS What was the lowest point in your life as a result of drug use?

sekio said:
Oh, I have a good one.

I overindulged in 3-MeO-PCP. I was using it heavily, multiple times a day, large-ish doses (10mg - 50mg) plugged and one night sat down to smoke a bowl and do some. Next thing my mind goes blank. it caused a fugue state where I ended up wandering my house like a zombie, unable to communicate and "with no life behind my eyes" - freaking the fuck out of my poor mother. I was running into furniture and making strange guttural sounds. Eventually I passed out and thanks to the massive amount of dissociative anesthetic I was on, had a GCS of 3 - which usually indicates absence of brain activity, i.e. Very Bad. EMS took me to the local hospital. The doctors were concerned I may have had a stroke or aneurysm (no response) and ordered emergency CT. I think by the time they found PCP in a blood/urine test they freaked out and put me in restraints. My memory kicks back in as I'm laying in an ICU bed, with a catheter up my dick, restrained by hands and legs, and full of IV's. Needless to say I was an absolute wreck - it's confusing enough to wake up in restraints, but when the staff are treating you like a fucking child and seemingly demonstrate no empathy, it makes everything worse. Struggling against the restraints and crying out won me a prize of a nice big bolus of haloepridol. By the time they finally released me from my restraints, the Haldol was coming on and I started to stagger. Two security ogres dumped me in an isolation room where I passed out. When I woke up I found myself wholly unable to move. I needed to be carted around in a wheelchair and could barely make a thumbs-up gesture, Let alone talk. Took a good couple days to clear that shit out.

Thus began a 2 week stay in the inpatient psychiatric unit. I also managed to damage my muscles pretty badly in the stuggle against the restraints - nothing like a nice case of rhabdomyolysis to keep you in the hospital. Met some interesting folks there (quiet, unassuming asian kid who was there for attempting to torch his family's residence - he got as far as poring gasoline everywhere before he was caught. Or the guy who insisted Bill Gates gave him his coat outside a Safeway. Or the nice Chinese jewelry designer who was simply there because her parents were abusive fucks. Or the guy who led cops on a midnight chase, buck-naked and frying on meth, through bramble bushes and rough woodlands. A real cast of chcarcters.), and the doctors were almost uniformly secretly interested in PCP.... it's not common at all any more.

Then when I came out, all my perosnal posessions had been thrown out, save for clothing, my PC, books, etc - my mother, whom I lived with at the time, decided to go through all my shit and discard any drug-related anything. I lost a copy of PiHKAL, TiHKAL, and the Shulgin Index. And also got the indignity of preumably having my limited collection of paper-based pr0n discovered (and discarded). My parents were duly unimpressed, my girlfriend left me as soon as I got out the psych ward (nice timing...) and to this day my mother refuses to sleep in the same building as me.

The irony is, my 3-MeO-PCP stash was stored in a suit-jacket coat pocket. It was still there when I got back. I would be lying if I said I didn't do more to celebrate....


I once was bedded in the hospital beside some poor moron who apparently got pissed drunk and jumped off a balcony while fleeing police. Broke both his ankles, kept going for a bit, leaving his feet thoroughly fucked. (different hospital stay than above). I guess they wouldn't give him any narcotics because he was drunk as fuck, and to be fair, he was mostly asking for alcohol, which they would portion out one shot every few hours. The real kicker is, I guess he had recently broken his ankles pulling a similar stunt, and they had barely healed by the time he decided to do it all over. The doctor didn't seem to want to split them again.
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Damn that was mad crazy aswell. To this day i regret fking getting into IV coke, my neighbors are scared of me to this day for pulling that stunt.
 
i ended up homeless in the big city. trying to find warmth in -45 degree celsius night after night. lost my wife, and almost anything i owned besides my clothes and needles. i lived out of a backpack and on my bmx with a gnarly 1.5+ gram a day iv meth habit. debilitating paranoia i couldn't decipher reality at all anymore. didn't sleep for so long i would start blacking out and coming to in lines at a food joint or on the street somewhere. lost almost half my body weight. i didn't have a single friend or what seemed like a single hope in life of ever being free from that nightmare. it took so many years from me. lost everything a man could lose. glad that nightmare was over 6.5 years ish ago. boy oh boy the power of the all might meth..
 
I lived in a homeless camp that we called tent City. And pretty much my day would revolve around drinking mouthwash and smoking spice, sometimes I would have enough money to get a pint of vodka but most of my money would go towards spice.
These were really dark days because I was alone most of the time,had to find places to eat, and there were many times when I would eat from the Thornton's dumpsters.
I was so used to the life style that it was hard for me to get out. Spent over a month in jail for pos of spice.
I'm glad that I was able to put all of that behind me.
 
lying to my wife that i was sending money to my ailing sister, we never lied to eachother, 19 yrs together and she never lied, and i used that excuse, and waking up in my dogs bed next to my pc chair, i guess i slide out, had a soft landing, but my good gods, i sure was pleasant around her less bitchy, prolly guilt, im still sweet as pie,to her, i dont deserve her, but imma be the best ican be for us, but lying to where i was going to pick up drugs and using my sick ass sis for pity. so gross, got alot of making up to do and i am
 
Wow good question well for me it was when I once stole off someone I never had before and didn't ever do it again because of how guilty I felt and still feel now tbh I was lucky to get away with it to I wished I had just gone through the withdrawal because in the end the guilt ate away at me so much that a few days clucking wouldn't have been as bad in comparison but it really things in my life as perspective I realised that I am not that type of person my addiction was out of control to back then it was a long time ago so...


Since then I have a lot further then you would think I still use but only now and again and if I have to go into withdrawal for a while it sucks but I just get on with it, it is what it is heroin just doesn't have a hold of my mind and soul like it used to I don't even enjoy it much anymore mostly I just nod out for most of it anyway.


That blank emotionless nod state though is so damn addictive on its own just not giving a fuck and being in your own world that's the only major problem now I'm just so used to using ha smack to remedy and cope with any trauma and stress and it just so happens that heroin is awesome at taking away had memories, anxieties or anything really as long as it's strong enough I have caught myself smoking a lot more often the last month or two daily in fact but my dad died a month ago and as I said heroin is basically all I know when it comes to ''dealing' with life but it's started to burn out now I've got over my shock about my dad and I'm starting to go back to wanting my old mojo back not this emotionless zombie state I want the old me back that everyone wants to be around when I'm On heroin I am not me I am someone else.
 
Ganjcat said:
what drugs if you mind me asking and how long?
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started prostituting less than two years after i started using. first it was weed because that was all i could access (the spooky gateway drug reeee) but from day one it was about escaping my mind - altered state of consciousness is what its called after all. about a year later i used benzos and amps for the first time. (since then ive used loads of shit in addition to the aforementioned three - crack, ketamin, oxycodone, meth, probably some fent when i wasnt testing my gear, quite a bit of mystery white powder and pills - some stuff i dont even know what or how much i took). point is i didnt really have a single doc, id just take whatever i could get if my usual contacts were dry, so it sounds like a lot but my total use of anything is around 200 instances lifelong

there were fleeting thoughts, but i never seriously considered stealing from my family (? unsure what thats about as its probably most peoples first choice versus what i did). had no source of income at the time and i had so little respect for myself that it seemed like an easy way to fund the habit once i had maxxed out my handouts from stoner acquaintances.

i dont do it now that ive got a job. but who knows how long this will last. its been six months, which is the longest ive ever held a job...sad.
 
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I woke up dopesick after a day of not having my fix. I was reading the Monday morning newspaper, and there was an article about a guy who robbed a bank and got away with it. I think you know where this is going. I had never spent more than a day without heroin. I was fiending hard. But I was also exhausted, because scoring dope is a fulltime job and I was buying for myself and my man. He was a fugitive. At this point in my drug game, I had put in a good ten years. I decided to rob a bank. I figured if I got caught, I would go to jail (duh) and be forced to get clean. I could not get clean on my own. I'd last a day and then I was out the door hustling for money. So, that Monday I borrowed my roommates car while he was right around the corner at work. I drove about a mile away from where I
was living and walked into a Bank of America at 9a.m., thinking it would be quiet. It was. I had a note, several actually since I couldn't decide what the fuck to write. I had no weapon, thank god. So, I roll
into the bank and the note I gave the teller, who was like 22 and it was her first real job, said 'this is a robbery, no dye packs'. When she started putting money into my stupid shopping bag (i think it had butterflies on it?), I felt totally surreal. Like I was in a dream state. But that chick was slick. She did put a dye pack into a stack. I hustle out to my car which was parked a couple businesses away, got in and the fucking dye immediately exploded. I didn't know at first wtf was going on. I thought they were trying to kill my ass. I couldn't breathe and I had red stain on my white pants. This was August and fucking hot. A good samaritan followed me back to my hood. I was going crazy speeds to try and lose him. At that point he had already done his good deed and called in the make of my car and plates.

I'M STILL DOPE SICK!!!! And getting sicker. I didn't want to hurt anyone on the road. I remember the cops flying past me to the bank I just robbed. I ended up in someones front yard. I just pulled the car over and sat on their lawn, contemplating how I could get over a 6 foot wooden fence. Because I knew life was going to be much better on the other side of that fence. Well, about 6 cop cars rolled up
on me. Gave me the routine. Hands up, walk backward...yadda yadda. I had one fucking flip flop on! That is how I went to jail. and I got 2 and a half years in prison. I had no priors. NONE.

But honestly, I think truly the lowest point was stealing my mother's wedding ring. She has stuck by me through all my shit and loved me regardless. I still feel like slime over that.
 
During the birth of my first child instead of being by my wife's side spent most of my time in my car in the car park smoking brown and crashing out. I know people had it much much worse but on what should have been my happiest day i was more worried why my mate who was my dealer not picking up my phone . Nothing else could make me this selfish but a physical addiction makes us exactly that im just lucky that i functioned otherwise when you get dopesick there is no low
 
yubacity said:
During the birth of my first child instead of being by my wife's side spent most of my time in my car in the car park smoking brown and crashing out. I know people had it much much worse but on what should have been my happiest day i was more worried why my mate who was my dealer not picking up my phone . Nothing else could make me this selfish but a physical addiction makes us exactly that im just lucky that i functioned otherwise when you get dopesick there is no low
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WORD.
 
Takes a lot for a person to bare their soul and admit to their lowest , most shameful, behavior. Lot of strong people ( and stories ) on here . Hopefully your lives are getting better and if you are still struggling I'm glad you come here for advice and guidance.

Happy holidays to all that are brave enough to disclose their dark side.
 
sekio said:
Oh, I have a good one.

I overindulged in 3-MeO-PCP. I was using it heavily, multiple times a day, large-ish doses (10mg - 50mg) plugged and one night sat down to smoke a bowl and do some. Next thing my mind goes blank. it caused a fugue state where I ended up wandering my house like a zombie, unable to communicate and "with no life behind my eyes" - freaking the fuck out of my poor mother. I was running into furniture and making strange guttural sounds. Eventually I passed out and thanks to the massive amount of dissociative anesthetic I was on, had a GCS of 3 - which usually indicates absence of brain activity, i.e. Very Bad. EMS took me to the local hospital. The doctors were concerned I may have had a stroke or aneurysm (no response) and ordered emergency CT. I think by the time they found PCP in a blood/urine test they freaked out and put me in restraints. My memory kicks back in as I'm laying in an ICU bed, with a catheter up my dick, restrained by hands and legs, and full of IV's. Needless to say I was an absolute wreck - it's confusing enough to wake up in restraints, but when the staff are treating you like a fucking child and seemingly demonstrate no empathy, it makes everything worse. Struggling against the restraints and crying out won me a prize of a nice big bolus of haloepridol. By the time they finally released me from my restraints, the Haldol was coming on and I started to stagger. Two security ogres dumped me in an isolation room where I passed out. When I woke up I found myself wholly unable to move. I needed to be carted around in a wheelchair and could barely make a thumbs-up gesture, Let alone talk. Took a good couple days to clear that shit out.

Thus began a 2 week stay in the inpatient psychiatric unit. I also managed to damage my muscles pretty badly in the stuggle against the restraints - nothing like a nice case of rhabdomyolysis to keep you in the hospital. Met some interesting folks there (quiet, unassuming asian kid who was there for attempting to torch his family's residence - he got as far as poring gasoline everywhere before he was caught. Or the guy who insisted Bill Gates gave him his coat outside a Safeway. Or the nice Chinese jewelry designer who was simply there because her parents were abusive fucks. Or the guy who led cops on a midnight chase, buck-naked and frying on meth, through bramble bushes and rough woodlands. A real cast of chcarcters.), and the doctors were almost uniformly secretly interested in PCP.... it's not common at all any more.

Then when I came out, all my perosnal posessions had been thrown out, save for clothing, my PC, books, etc - my mother, whom I lived with at the time, decided to go through all my shit and discard any drug-related anything. I lost a copy of PiHKAL, TiHKAL, and the Shulgin Index. And also got the indignity of preumably having my limited collection of paper-based pr0n discovered (and discarded). My parents were duly unimpressed, my girlfriend left me as soon as I got out the psych ward (nice timing...) and to this day my mother refuses to sleep in the same building as me.

The irony is, my 3-MeO-PCP stash was stored in a suit-jacket coat pocket. It was still there when I got back. I would be lying if I said I didn't do more to celebrate....


I once was bedded in the hospital beside some poor moron who apparently got pissed drunk and jumped off a balcony while fleeing police. Broke both his ankles, kept going for a bit, leaving his feet thoroughly fucked. (different hospital stay than above). I guess they wouldn't give him any narcotics because he was drunk as fuck, and to be fair, he was mostly asking for alcohol, which they would portion out one shot every few hours. The real kicker is, I guess he had recently broken his ankles pulling a similar stunt, and they had barely healed by the time he decided to do it all over. The doctor didn't seem to want to split them again.
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My dude! Man after my own heart!

I was a couple year user of real PCP around the late 1970's. Fast forward to 2015 where I discovered 3-meo-pcp and daily use. I probably was doing around 5-10mg daily starting out. Loved the clear, wide awake feel of being totally in the moment and in control at the lower doses. But my use crept up and I had a blackout while driving on the freeway and woke up in the hospital. Totaled my car and fortunately no one was hurt.

Fast forward again to a few months ago. I started doing 3-cl-pcp and 3-ho-pcp. A few weeks ago I was in blackout territory again doing all kinds of crazy stuff according to my wife. Finally culminating in a blackout where I called my wife of 25 years a crazy bitch and started slapping and kicking her. She called the cops on me and I just got out of county jail after a few days in. Got court to look forward to next month. Dumped all my drugs when I got out of jail. Never ever again PCP-related stuff.

I've just posted a bunch of PCP-related stuff in the Tapering Thread if you're so inclined...

Oh yeah, in 1980 I was imprisoned in Rhode Island Penitentiary for selling a dime bag of pot to a cop. 60 days. A fuckin DIME BAG OF POT! I was put in work-release for starters, but I had no job. Guards busted into my room a few days in, accused me of being high (I was not), and I was tossed into the deepest, basement bowels of the prison. 10 cells side by side. The shithead in the cell next to me kept tossing water from a cup at me. Good times. I was not scared straight.
 
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gibberish-noise said:
I would say prostitution but I feel the worst is yet to come
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spoke too soon - already its upon me - im losing whatever grip i had on reality and im fucking terrified. nothing feels real. its all a caricature. a movie set. a garish performance of sadism. how can this be entertainment? how can this be real life? surely we are participating in a mass satire. perhaps the truman show was predictive programming and perhaps i am fucking insane. how can you tell when youre psychotic. i ought to stab myself but google doesnt have any good answers and id be too much of a coward to make it work. it only ever gets worse. the end looms overcast but i am sure i will fuck it up somehow. truly i dont want to die. i just dont want to live this life in this society. there is no hope. no way forward and no way back. every option terrifies me. i dont know how to explain. my mind is fracturing and everything is fragmented. alone i decay. there is nothing that can fix this. i am too disgusting for redemption. why must good innocents with potential get cancer when there are aliens like me full of poison. the xanax doesnt work anymore now that all the presses are fakes. contorted and slanderous we lack mercy. where is the purpose. existential anxiety i cannot escape. i haunt myself. a vacant rubble. it is only a matter of time
 
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