Citation: Alayna. "OCD & LSA: Not the Best Mix of Acronyms: experience with Morning Glory (ID 67588)". Erowid.org. Oct 18, 2009. erowid.org/exp/67588
I don't know how accurate this all is, and though I remember vaguely what happened, I can barely remember what -exactly- happened -- let alone in chronological order. I'll try as best I can.
Okay, so my (now ex-) friend and I bought two bags each of ground morning glory seeds from a guy she knew, who also gave us a huge discount. Each little baggy (which was actually a piece of plastic wrap with a rubber band around the top) fit in the palm of your hand, and there was a tannish white finely ground powder inside them. We were told each bag was two hits, take one half and you trip balls for anywhere from 6-12 hours. We were also told 2 or 3 tablespoons would probably not make us trip hard, but we'd be really 'happy'. He said the best method would be to mix it with something, preferably apple sauce (odd, huh?).
We kept them safe and hidden for about a month before we finally found that we had time on our hands to take them. I've heard stories, and I had spent a month BEFORE we bought them as well as the month we still had them researching and making sure I knew everything possible. Mainly because I knew it could be a dangerous experience, especially since the trip was supposed to be similar to an acid trip.
That entire week, her mother was out of town and had entrusted us with the welfare of her (very nice) house. Pretty stupid of her, if you ask me, considering her daughter had a history of partying. Anyway, her boyfriend and his best friend had come over as well, and I decided I would try the LSA first, and if she liked what was going on with me, she could take hers. Around 8:30, I first measured (by eye, mind you) half of the off-white powder into a bowl. I found a bunch of measuring spoons and then measured 2 tablespoons into a another small bowl containing peanut butter (she had no apple sauce) and then spread it onto a piece of bread. There was still a sizable amount left in the bowl of powder, too. It seemed to fill me up quickly, before I had the chance to eat it all I was already feeling the nausea that naturally comes from the seeds. I forced the rest of it down anyway.
I didn't feel anything but slight nausea for about an hour or so, as we drove over to her boyfriend's house, waited there for a while to pick up his sister, drove to the gas station to get beer, and then dropped his sister off at a bar. Granted, while I was in the car for about 10 minutes the road lines had begun to shift a bit, but only at certain angles. Double (or even quadruple) vision, in lack of a better term. I felt a bit giggley and very very slightly lightheaded, but still disappointed.
So after those initial 2 hours passed and we ended up back at my friend's empty house, I took 3 more spoonfuls. This time mixed with ice cream. Bad idea, by the way, tasted like slim fast and since it took me forever to eat it again it melted slightly and the fragments of seed were obvious. It was THEN when I finally started to get over the nausea and feel it. I layed in her basement, which was rather large and well-furnished, watched her boyfriend and his friend play pool, and just stared at the ceiling. I started laughing uncontrollably at things that probably weren't as funny to anyone else, and I had this unexplainable urge to chew on everything. EVERYTHING.
I began gnawing at the leather couch cushions, at my hand, and anything I could get at. So my boyfriend, who had called me to check on me, suggested that I chew gum, which they gladly gave me to stop me from attempting to chew on them whenever they sat next to me. It was a piece of Dubble Bubble, which looked so huge I thought it'd never fit in my mouth. I didn't bother removing the paper at first, but when I figured it out, it was the best thing I'd ever experienced in my life. Gum was the incarnate of every god imaginable at that moment in time. I just remember saying 'I LOVE THIS GUM' over and over. I repeated myself a lot. A LOT.
I also remember going into her garage with her so she could smoke a cigarette, and seeing her dogs. She has a pug and a boxer, both still young with very pliable, wrinkly 'puppy' skin. I bent down with my eyes really wide (I remember that because she told me later about it), and began just-squishing their excess skin. I would stretch it, grab onto it, rub my face on it. It was just as amazing as the gum had been. She was laughing about that for quite a while.
We all piled in the car again around 10:00 or so, I don't really remember what time, nor did I care, and as we waited for my friend to get out there her boyfriend turned on the radio and some song with a raging bass line started playing, I think something by AFI, and I just leaned against the window and groaned. It felt so amazing. I felt like I could -see- the sound waves, and feel them passing over me.
We drove to his house, yet again, so he could talk to his dealer or something, and I just layed on his bed. I was on the phone with my boyfriend again, I suspect they made me call him to keep my annoying ass occupied. I don't remember much of what I said except that I wanted to 'eat the bed'. It went something like 'oh shit. I'm gonna eat the bed. I'M GONNA EAT THE BED.' followed by a fit of laughter and more of 'I'M GONNA FUCKING EAT THE BED.' and then that turned into 'You guys. There are otters in my eyelids.' No, I swear I'm not making this up. I reiterated, not thinking that they believed me, because I remember being damned convinced that there were in fact furry sea otters inhabiting my eyelids. Every time I closed my eyes, there they were! Sneaky little buggers.
After what felt like an hour but what must have been only half, after they had gotten all their laughs out of me rolling around on the thin mattress and shoving my face into peoples' clothes, they had to force me to get up and leave. It was around then when the reiterating got 100 times worse. I have a moderate case of OCD. I started counting. In Japanese at first, then in Spanish, then in English. The numbers weren't always in order, and sometimes I would pick out certain syllables of each word (yet again another normal symptom of my OCD) and repeat it, clicking and sharpening the letters until it fit my fancy. Then I would continue. Her boyfriend got in the passenger seat, she say in the driver's seat, and I fell rather limply into the backseat. I had started saying my boyfriend's name over and over (He's Chinese, and his name was rather amusing to say at the time), again clicking certain syllables and repeating them.
I hung up with him, I believe, or else I dropped the phone, I don't quite remember.
And then her boyfriend started asking me questions, rather simple questions, but they seemed like revelations to me for the moment. I answered with the same syllable-sharpening obsession, and began twitching almost violently. I would snap my shoulders backward, my neck to the side, blink in patterns (all very common symptoms of my OCD that I was able to suppress when I was sober) and click my tongue. The found it amusing, nonetheless, and we drove back to her house. The streetlights didn't matter to me and the road didn't seem to exist. I just knew I was laying down, and that I was moving at the same time -- but I didn't quite know why.
We stopped at a grocery store at some point in the night, but they told me to stay in the car because I was so obviously fucked up. It was funny, really. We parked next to a car full of guys, and when my friend went inside with her boyfriend, a very inebriated guy got out of the car and started to talk to me. Being as messed up as I was, I talked back, and the sober driver in the car apologized for his drunken friend, but I laughed it off. They asked me what I was on, and I told them flat out (very stupid, but forgive me, my mouth and brain were separated!).
When we got back to her house, I lay back down on the couch in the basement -- and then they told me they were going upstairs to bed. I was very quick to ask why, I did NOT want to be left alone. The very thought put me in panic mode, I felt like my heart had started to pump itself to near death. I ran to the stairs (probably more like wobbled) and asked if I could go up with them. My (at the time) 'friend' gave me an annoyed look, and being the paranoid idiot that I was, I told her 'nevermind. Just leave the lights on.' The dark seemed so scary.
After they went upstairs I got back on the phone with my boyfriend so that I wouldn't feel so alone. He was out of state and with a few friends, and had just taken in quite a good amount of weed. But he was NOWHERE near my level. I don't know how long I layed on the little bed in the corner of the basement...but I think it was around 4 hours of seeing frogs cover the ceiling and walls, 4 hours of droning on about stupid things. My boyfriend was still sober enough to write, because he had written down everything I said for about 15 minutes, when he read it back to me later I tripped out harder. That was the good part of the trip.
Even before he hung up, I had started to comedown, and it wasn't necesarily bad, to me anyways, but I kept trying to hurt myself. Though not consciously. I knew WHAT I was doing, but it didn't trigger in my brain as really 'bad'. I kept saying 'RIP it out. rip it OUT. rip IT out' emphasizing different words each time, and absolutely TEARING at my face. I remember digging my nails into my forehead and it felt like they were in so deeply but I can never really be sure. I remember I was trying to claw through my face to 'peel my skull off of my brain'. I kept seeing blood running down my fingers because I could feel my forehead getting wet when I tore at it but I think now that it was just sweat and the blood was a hallucination. I tried to rip my tongue out, but I ended up just choking on my hands when I put them in my throat. I didn't know how to work them back there without choking. I tried to stick my fingers behind my eyes and pop those out too. I could feel an 'indent' in the front of my brain and I wanted to get to it, and all these things were in the way, my skin and skull and eyes and nose. I just wanted them gone. My boyfriend kept telling me 'Keep your hands at your sides' and kept trying as best as he could to make my trip better so that I wouldn't freak out. I'm so grateful I had him to help me, he did acid a lot before. Though this wasn't actual acid, it was similar, so he knew what was coming and what to do to keep me calm.
It was very suddenly when it slipped, rolled, FELL downhill. Yes, what I remember the most was the beginning of the comedown. The line was dead on the phone, because my boyfriend had to hang up, he was stoned and wanted to sober up before he had to go home. I didn't remember him saying goodbye, I don't know if he did or not. Everything started slipping downhill at top speed from there. I was alone in a basement, my baby wasn't there to make me feel safe anymore. It was -so- dark even though all the lights were on. My eyes could see everything and I recognized this place as somewhere I'd been before numerous times, I knew this house, I knew where I was, but at the same time I felt like I had been lost for centuries. I felt like I'd been alive for ages and was just now beginning to die. I might have already died, for all I knew, it all felt the same to me.
Time had stopped, everything was sped up but seconds took hours to tick by. I went upstairs, tried to tell myself 'you're sober, you're sober, you know this place, stop tripping, stop tripping.', I panicked so badly that I would tear up. But as I stared at the couch, the kitchen floor, the TV set, the hallway, everything I know so well in my friend's house -- my brain was not under my control anymore. I couldn't see anything out of the ordinary but I was convinced -- more than that - I -KNEW- that there was something else here, something was moving my body, something/someone had soaked into my blood stream and was making me do everything I couldn't have done otherwise. I was a ragdoll being held by invisible hands.
I ran around upstairs while the only other people in the house slept, turning the lights on and off, running into the bathroom and staring at my face in the mirror. I could see flecks of blood all over my face, and I knew they weren't a hallucination because my thoughts actually were in full sentences now. I wasn't basing my judgements on syllables and sequences anymore -- I was speaking a language. I had an organized method of communicating again. Finally.
I kept looking at my phone, calling my boyfriend, I needed someone there with me.
I didn't want to wake anyone, I knew they'd be scared and I didn't want to cause them any grief. I didn't want to burden them.
'I'm reliving this nightmare while I'm typing it, so everything is coming back so vividly.' <== (I wrote this the morning after, in a journal entry)
Seconds -- quite literally -- felt like days. I kept looking at my phone to see the time, looking at my calls to make sure I hadn't called the hospital or my mother. It was 1:24 for what felt like 5 or 6 days. After what I was sure had been about 3 hours, I looked at the clock and realized it was only 1:25. I started crying, then only what must have actually been a few seconds later I was laughing, I had a crazy grin on my face for hours on end. I kept staring at the lights. The carpet. The mirrors. The mirrors scared me, that much I remember clearly-my eyes were trying to suck me in. They looked so black. I was so scared I just wanted it to end. I almost went in the kitchen an grabbed a knife, I wanted to peel my face off and claw at my brain again. I wanted to scrape it out and make it stop.
I wanted to call the hospital, I wanted them to come get me. I knew that they had drugs there, I knew they could make it stop. All I wanted was to make it stop, I kept saying 'I don't want it anymore, I don't want it anymore'. I wanted to call my mother, I wanted to tell her she was right. She had told me once before that there are bad trips and good trips, she's had her share of bad trips when she dropped acid before and told me that you better pray that if you ever do acid you hope it's not a bad one. She was right. That's all I wanted her to know, she was right. I knew I still had a few hours to ride out, but if one second felt like a few hours in itself. I thought I'd never last long enough. I thought I had died. I remember saying 'I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead.' I layed on the couch, I still remember my fingers absentmindedly pushing my speed dial to get my boy back on the phone. Who knows how many times I called him that night, it must have been nearly 20.
I thought I'd been laying there, dead for years. Days. Weeks. I wasn't sure anymore. My brain felt so heavy. By 2:00 I was sure, definitely convinced, that I was dead. Time didn't exist for the dead. That's what my brain kept telling me. If time isn't existing for you now, that must mean you're already dead. The last time I called him he finally answered. I felt like someone was giving me CPR. I felt my lungs fill with air again (I forgot to breathe a lot). All I could say was 'call her house.' I get no phone service in her house so he has to call her house phone whenever I'm over there. I remember thinking it wasn't real, that someone was tricking me, that he wasn't really there. But he felt right next to me. I was cold for so many hours and then suddenly I was warm again.
I told him I wanted to stop, I wanted him to help me sleep so that it would all stop. He told me to just wait until he got home, that he was on a train. I made him promise, god knows how many times, to stay on the phone with me. Just keep talking, remind me that I'm on earth again. Remind me that I'm still on the ground. I kept saying 'Keep me on the ground, keep me on the ground.' Then he went through a tunnel.
When he called me back, he said it had only been five minutes. It felt like so much longer. I had started to panic. When I heard the phone ringing it felt like there actually was a heaven, I felt like being dead wasn't that bad. Yes I was still half sure that I was dead. He calmed me down for about 2 hours, kept me close to him while I rode out the comedown. Around 3:30 I was so exhausted that my body was unable to move. I was terrified that I'd stop breathing, that I had forgotten how to do it. He was falling asleep on the phone with me and I made him promise he wouldn't hang up. As I finally started to fall asleep, I would twitch really bad, groan. I said 'no' over and over again.
He kept telling me, half asleep though he was, to calm down and sleep. That I would still be breathing. That I would be okay. I don't remember how I fell asleep. I just remember my friend waking me up at 7:00 saying 'we have to go to school in half an hour, get up', I told her 'I just went to sleep, I can't go to school. I felt not quite living, but not nearly dead yet. It was just 'existing' to me. I didn't talk for hours, and I was freezing cold.
So I called my mom and told her I had eaten something bad and was throwing up all night, that I was having really bad PMS, etc. She bought it, and just told me to get some sleep and come home for the day. I went home a few hours later, after I had moved upstairs with a heated blanket and slept a little more of it off. The comedown lasted that entire day, I didn't feel like doing anything. And by 'anything' I mean I didn't even feel like sitting, but I didn't feel like standing, I didn't feel like walking OR running. It was so weird.
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