Citation: Chronic 311. "The Door to True Misery: experience with Methamphetamine (ID 17103)". Erowid.org. Jul 21, 2005. erowid.org/exp/17103
Before I begin, I must mention that I have chosen to protect identity by using only first initials. I write this to serve as a caution flag against methamphetamine abuse. It was taken from a college manuscript portfolo with the author's complete permission, and submitted in accordance with his desire that this story be told so that others may be warned. What follows is the story about what was, quite possibly, the most potent life/drug lesson I ever learned. I post this article neither in support or disfavor of drug use, whether in general, or in specific realtion to Methampetamine, but only as a 'be warned' to my fellow man. Know that my expierance is in no way a sterotype case of Meth abuse, but a POSSIBLITY...
I grew up in a small town in the south, at which I was considered to be one of the most prominent drug users around, of the time. I ,and others, considered myself a pro, very well read and cautious in my drug use. Making sure I knew all possible effect, good bad or indifferent. As well as dosage and what to do in times of trouble. If a substance popped up I often was swamped with calls, asking questions about the expeirance, fair market price etc... I had used, often and abundantly, coke, weed, MDMA, mushrooms, alcohol,LSD,DXM,Opium in any concievable form,DMT,Ketamine, a rainbow collage of various uppers, downers, MAOI's, you get the picture. It seems that about the only thing that had never entered my scope was meth. This was quickly about to change however, and what happened still scares the ever living SHIT out of me.
My friend J had a good job with a mortgage company the fall of 2001, roughly in August as I recall, which paid very nicely and included the benefit of anything we could pocket while serving forclosure evictions. I never had to be told twice to blow off high school and join a work crew he was setting up. (Pills have always been my passion, so neat, exact and easily concealed, and in this job I found a lot.) So when told that we would be leaving my town for one an hour away to serve a occupied eviction with a house full of possessions I grabbed my phone, called myself into school, and jumped into one of the two trucks we were taking.
We arrived at the house a little early, but the officer serving the warrant was waiting and ready to go (a rarity indeed!) He was armed to the teeth and seemed anxious, although I did not pay too much attention. J beat on the door and woke up the occupant, who looked amazingly strung out, (not at all a rarity) he told us there was a few rifles, but no drugs in the house (Drugs and weapons we ask for up front, no penalty) and that he would go to a friends for a trailer and help return to help us load up. We began to walk through the house, sizing up the amount of work we would have to do. Whether good or bad, fate decreed that I walked into the shed behind the house. The first thing I noticed was the propane tanks and the terrible air. Then, less than 10 seconds after I entered, the officer grabbed me and threw me on the ground outside yelling 'Stay out of this shit for you own good man' then he ran to the front yard, yelling on a radio for backup and a haz-mat team. I also heard him saying 'It was just as we expected.' Cops came and arrested the occupants wife, and him later on, when they found approx 33 grams of crystalized meth in his truck. Purity tests concluded that the substance was 95-99% pure and VERY professionaly made,as it was chalk white. After Haz-Mat had drug off the tanks of Anhydrous (fertilizer), boxs of Sudafed and cases of batteries, we got back to work. Besides about 500 dollars, VCR's etc.. We found in a cigarette pack 8 baggies of meth, weighing from 1 1/2 to 3 grams each I shoved them in my pocket and kept going.
Once back to my home town we sat down to divide up the booty, appliances to those we needed it (there were 4 of us), money was split equally, and 4 bags of meth for me, 4 for J. (The other two wanted nothing of it, which we respected.) Eager to add another notch to my belt, I logged on and began to research Meth, which in description seemed to me like a glorified Adderall, with a slightly more severe high and come down. Finally, J and I dumped a bag each on the table, each weighing 1 $ 1/2 grams. Now when snorting coke, my lines are always large, sometimes a gram or more, but always the cautious one I still began with a small bump to incorporate the feeling. The burn was intense but short, and even with a small bump. I felt the ruch quickly and completely, It was great and I nodded excitedly to J ready for more (J had done meth before and he loved it, however he had more appreciation for speed then I did, my preference was always downers.)I chopped 3 lines out of my gram and a half and got started.
6:00 p.m Friday- snorted a 1/3 gram line, effect much more pronounced. More intense speed effects than anything I had ever expieranced, Euphoria and erotic pleasure feelings racked my body.
6:30 p.m Friday- snorted second 1/3 gram line, crazy high, having somewhat auditory hallucinations, and an extreme god complex (felt on top of EVERYTHING.) Me and J began to clean his house to spotless and jabbed like crazy animals, barely making sense.
7:00 p.m Friday- J's wife arrives, very surprised at our condition (and pleased at the clean house) and calls for a crank laced joint to join the fun, which we gladly obliged. The joint,however, seemed not to elevate the mood any so I bagged up the remaing line and bid J a stuttered goodbye. Feeling wonderful and crazy speedy, I went in search of fun.
7:30 p.m Friday- picked up my bud B and headed to a party, he was curious as to the effect of the meth but declined my offer to let him try.
10:00 p.m Friday- (Jumped ahead because not much happened, I socialized a lot, but except for the occasional toke, did not add any more chemicals to my body, wanting only to expierance the meth.) B who is now a little drunk, pulls me aside and says he wants to give the crystal a try. So into the bathroom where I dumped my 1/3 gram line out in the bathroom, then from another bag I chopped him a bump and a slightly smaller line than mine(his preferance) and snorted my rail, then handed him the mirror. He likewise snorted, also noting the painful burn, then we headed back to the party.
1:00 a.m. Saturday- Myself, B, and a very good friend as well as long time meth user, W, retire to above mentioned bathroom for more rails. From a 3 gram bag comes 3 more 1/3 gram lines, which I split then let W begin. After snorting we retire to the patio to discuss the evening and smoke some cigarettes. (W noted that this may have possibly been the best Meth he had ever come across, and was likely VERY pure, this had be confirmed earlier by the police at the recovery site.) Shortly later the party wrapped up and the night owl's headed over to my appartment for some after hours use.
From this point on is where things began to go wrong; it was 8 hours after the above post the next one leaves off, so the meth was enjoyed for 10 hours. Nothing of note happened,no additional drugs were not consumed this night or at all except for the occasional bowl, during this period. Around 4 I tried to go to sleep, HA! Still felt good, however, just mentally wanted some sleep, as an assurance of the normalcey of my situation, which from here on out was anything but normal.
9:00 a.m. Saturday- still no sleep, and now I am beginning to crash, HARD, physical symptoms began, my stomach queased, my head hurt like shit, bad mouth taste not sure what to describe it as (meth taste?), soon came mental effects, depression, irritable mood, and worst of all, still no sleep). Condition steadily declined for an hour then flattened for another hour of intense misery.
11:00 a.m. Saturday - I had to report to work in an hour and still feel like shit, so I decide to do another line (1/2 gram)to try to assuage some come down effects. (second mistake) Snorted in parking lot in front of work and headed inside.
11:15 a.m. Saturday - began to work (at a sandwich shop) but was overcome with EXTREME paranoia, which is odd because the owners of the shop are great friends of mine as well as users and don't usually mind my mental state as long as it is not noticeable, so I never worry. Boss noticed I looked sick and asked me what was wrong, I said nothing but he decided to send me home anyway, as we were slow.
12:00 p.m. Saturday- arrived at my appartment after taking a ridiculously long, back road route to my apartment, the paranoia was intense, I felt like every other driver was staring at the cracked out looking freak behind the wheel. I thought anyone on a phone was calling in my plates. Upon arriving home I ran around the rooms, covering the windows and doors with sheets and duct tape. Then I hid in my bedroom and refused to answer the door or phone all day.
10:00 p.m. Saturday- still no sleep or food, paranoia is beginning to subside but I STILL feel wide awake and suffer from that very uncomfortable jittery feeling synonomous with an amp come down but much harder. Kept all rooms pitch dark and did not want to see anyone, copped a sick excuse for my girlfriend, and finally crawled out from under my bed to watch TV.
6:00 a.m Sunday- Spent the entire night picking at my hang nails until my fingers were bloody and scabbed. Got my hands on 10 mg blue roche valium, and ate it like a buffet trying to get to sleep, might as well have taken tylenol, no help.
6:00 p.m. Sunday- Been awake for 2 days, eaten nothing at all and severly depressed. called sick to work and just ran in circles in the apartment, full blown dementia is beginning to take over, (I thought I once managed to nearly fall asleep,something I longed so desperatly to do, then the phone rang, so i promptly proceeded to hurl it through a living room window, screaming curses and prayers, to any and all deities listening, to help me')
What happened next, at around 12am. Monday was in no way what I would call sleep, more like an exausted coma-like daze, I know that my eyes remained open and blinking, but no thought processes occured, honestly I was a vegetable.
7:00 a.m. Monday- I actually try to report for school, my mind however is so shattered that I feel hopelessly lost and depressed. I finally decided to leave and continue to try for sleep. However at the front door I simply broke down. I laid on the floor, sobbing and racking with convulsions, an administator happened upon me and I begged her to kill me and let my depression free. Collapsed on the nurse's floor soon after (but did not sleep)
1:00 p.m. Monday- I was taken to the hospital, where I narrolowly escaped being busted, when the doctors asked why Anhydrous Ammonia had come up in a sample of fluid from my lungs. I replied that I honestly had no idea but would walking into a meth lab during an eviction do the trick, which they assured me it would and they seemed to accept my story. I was diagnosed with exhastion, dehydration, severe depression (something I had done battle with a few times before) and a pair of lungs full of industrial farm fertilizer, before being driven to my parents house by my mom. Where I sat around and moped, needed to sleep greatly but STILL not able too.
6:00 p.m. Monday-After excusing myself away from my parents, who were worried and sorry for me, thiking I did not deserve to be sick, still they thought that I would get better soon, as the doctor had said. I knew the truth somehow, that this would not be gone quickly, and laid around feeling my misery keenly all day, until finally, close to exactly 3 days from the beginning of my ordeal, I passed out in glorious sleep, and stayed that way for close to 30 hours.
(End Chrono order)
Upon my awakening Wednesday afternoon, I spent the next day vomiting green and red(blood?) liquids into the toilet until i just dry heaved, and mumbling at nothing. Slept some more, then awoke Thursday to the most profound depression I had ever faced, along with a nasty hacking cough and sore throat, bleary unfocused eyes, and a slew of other fun surprises. Talked to J who, as always, was just fine, however he also had some of the physical symptoms I had. B who had done less called me and told me to NEVER let him touch meth again EVER. He assured me that it was a miserable expierance for him as well, not nearly as intense or prolonged however, I can only assume because his 2/3 gram was a much lower dose than my 2 grams and his weight is greater. However the strangest thing I heard was that the other 2 members of our eviction crew were also physically ill. We could only discern that the air in that house had been tainted by leaking propane tanks of Anhydrous and improperly stored chemicals.
And the conclusion, well it still has not happened. I spent a month with a shrink in extreme depression, that abruptly disappeared, yet sometimes creeps back to this day, and yes I can tell the differance between Meth depression and stress depression easily, having felt its touch for so long. I was physically ill for about 2 weeks, and my lungs have been damaged, possibly irrepairably, although they seem to be recovering. After the depression wore off, things seemed more or less as normal as they would ever get again. I flushed the remaining crystal, I am not at all squemish of selling drugs that dont interest me to others, but I would not wish a meth crash on Satan, so I definently wasant going to let it out on the streets with my friends.
The one thing I will never escape, however, is the haunting memories of the destructive powers of this drug. Meth does not lull me over gradually, it simply kicks my ass so bad that unless I do more, reality is going to suck. Simple as that, either keep using or suffer the consequences of my previous actions. Meth was not light and fluttery for me, it was base and oily, and it gave me the greatest high Ive ever expeiranced, then take its asking price, whether it be my mind, body, or life.
To elaborate on 'destructive powers' I present the following examples:
A few phone calls and a glance at some pictures we had snagged in case the cops needed them told us all we needed to know about the meth cooks life. The man (as well as FATHER I would learn) was sentenced to a 20 year prison sentance for manufacture, sale, and posession of a DEA controlled substance, 3 years for child neglect, i.e. cooking the meth about 15 yards from his 8 year and 12 year old daughters room, and 2 years for resisting arrest (leaving to get his trailer.) Our actions saved the mother, who was released to care for her children on the premise that she knew nothing of the drugs (yea right, I can smell it cooking a mile away and it reeks.) So in retrospect, not turning in those bags saved her at that moment, sadly I know for a fact she never cleaned up her act as I read about her OD and subsequent death from IV meth, (later noted by the news papers a a death due to 'a bubble of air in the vein'??)
She left her 2 daughters orphaned. The girls, the only innocent victims of the whole ordeal,suffered the most,as their toys, beds, food, everything, gone in the eviction, the mom picked up nothing from the street and that stuff seems to disappear from sight. J,B,W,the other two crew members and myself made a large donation to them anonymously, but not nearly worth their posessions and memories. During their time at school that day, they had lost EVERYTHING.
The final point I wish to present is the amount of time, deduced from pictures we found, it took for this household tragedy to happen. Ask yourself how long you think it would take you to completely ruin yourself and every single person who meant anything to you, business or play (DEA raided the county a short time later and got many people from pictures found by us and other crews.)for 10 square miles all around you. Well it took these folks 3 MONTHS from conception to death of the idea. Photos dated as late as May showed a happy clean house with many more family members in it celebrating a grandmothers birthday. From then you could watch literally frame by frame as the house was torn up, the successful husband and happy wife beginning to look more and more haggard, and family members disappearing left and right. Found out the 12 year old loved to shoot photos and had caught all this, including the incriminating shots of various cookers, users etc...I often wonder if she knew what was going on.
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