I can definitely speak to it being strangely psychologically addictive and am, in fact, at this very time finding myself relieved that I donated a full 50 lb tank to a party this weekend, where it was completely cached, as otherwise it would be sitting in my closet right now...
Despite all my best intentions to save the stuff for when I could REALLY use it well, as a potentiator/condiment for other things, I find myself getting home from work, eh, let's relax with a balloon instead of a beer... oh that balloon was filled way too small... and oh this is a good show on tv, must prime for the good part... and find myself an hour or so later desperately needing a nap and on the edge of being sick.
Having a couple of tanks and a ready supplier out of town, I have found myself in the past spending two week periods as an absolute slave to the tank, on more than one occassion effectively killing a 50 lb tank by myself.
Mind you, it IS fun, but puts pot to shame for amotivational potential. Occasionally before catching the train to work, I'll realize I don't need to leave the house for another 10 minutes... look around the room... see the tank... and end up at work 1 1/2 hours late and not feeling quite so well. I become a good natured but sluggish zombie and I eventually feel that it is leeching at my soul, similar, I imagine, to that alcoholism which seductively lures you back to the bottle too early in the morning for just one more...
As for effect in large doses, I can vouch for that 'bends' sensation; after a week or so of very heavy binging my muscles start to ache, and climbing a flight of stairs in the morning can be excruciating. I'm no doctor but it feels like it settles in the joints somehow.
Also after a week / week and a half of hitting the tank hardcore, besides just a general weakness of spirit and vague depressive lack of effect, I have a couple or three times started to react violently to the stuff: where even the smell of it in the room will make me physically ill, things start to taste different, and the very thought of the stuff is extremely nauseating. Perhaps a defense mechanism? My body suddenly says ENOUGH and will not abide by it anymore. This always comes a bit as a relief, as left to my own devices and even while detesting my taste for the stuff, I will keep on it until some sort of interference comes up, even while noting that i'm becoming depressed, unproductive and lethargic... but so yummy.
Despite all this, I think I'm the only person I know directly who has had just a dense love-hate relationship with the stuff. The worst reactions outside of myself I have seen is the usual fiending, a few bouts with nausea, a very strong impulse to get MORE, soggy indiscretions.
A friend wonders if the sort of hangover I get from nitrous might feel similar to his pot hangovers; he's a big time toker and I seldom touch the stuff, so I wouldn't know as far as sensation goes.
