Citation: Monk. "Long Hard Road: An Experience with LSD (exp18337)". Erowid.org. Apr 11, 2018. erowid.org/exp/18337
I went through a year of partying when I was 21. My husband was going in the army and the time would soon come where I had to put aside my old ways and become a prim and proper officer's wife. So I decided to go ahead and cram as much partying as I could in as short a time as possible. I'd discovered acid when I was 20 (I never did drugs as a teen *gasp* and tried pot for the first time when I was 19) and I loved it from the start. I had been using e since I was 19 and I was bored with the sameness that I always experienced and I found something new and wonderful in acid. From that first sugar cube, I was hooked.
I loved everything about it. I had absolutely no inhibitions, everything was fun, and I was rediscovering the world like a five year old. It was wonderful. Well, I started to do it every weekend. Friday, I'd drive over to this guy's house and score some acid for me and my friends. At first, I'd only take one or two hits, but as time passed I was taking up to six hits at a time. At first, I just stuck to Fridays, but then I started doing it on Saturdays too. Then, nothing else would do but to start tripping on all the days of the week. I went a week without breathing a sober breath. I was working at a video store at that time, and I would sit there watching movies and helping customers with dimed-out pupils and a vacant stare.
I was totally frying myself out on acid, but I didn't care because I was having fun. I still thought I was having fun when I started making big mistakes. I'm not going to mention the biggest, because I still hate myself for it and will never get over it, but I did charge my credit card up to the max so that I could save my money for pot and acid. I was such a fool. I don't know when it stopped being fun for me.
I don't know when it stopped being fun for me.
It was just something to escape the problems I'd created for myself. I'd drop a few hits, turn on some music, dance around, and talk to my friends. Before long, I would be crying or freaking out and screaming. All of my friends told me that I needed to stop, but I couldn't. Acid is my Achilles Heal. For some people it's alcohol or heroin or coke, no, mine's acid. I've never heard of acid addictions, I didn't go through withdrawls or serious pain, but if I didn't trip, I would get so depressed and suicidal that I just had to do it to forget. This went on for several months and then I moved to North Carolina. My husband go stationed here in the Army and of course I followed him like a good wife should. Of course, there were no drugs to be found (I will not get him in trouble) and I had to quit cold-turkey. I sank into a depression so deep that I was practically catatonic. I would sit in my chair and lay there all day, I'd be in the same position when my husband came home 9 hours later. I eventually swallowed all of my prescription pills for depression (zoloft) because the info brochure said that overdosing could cause fatal injury or harm. I sure wanted that. My husband came in the bathroom and noticed the empty bottle that had been refilled the day before and questioned me. He then rushed me to the emergency room where I had to drink liquid charcoal. They put me in ICU and kept me on suicide watch. They then committed me for evaluation. Let me tell you, psych wards are no fun. I was so scared and just wanted to go home, I kept beggin and begging, but they wouldn't let me. So I just pretended like nothing was wrong and told them what they wanted to hear. The dr. knew I was doing that, but he really couldn't prove it so I went home.
During my acid binge I went from 110 lbs to 95 lbs. I was skeletal. I honestly don't know how I could have done that to myself. I didn't eat much, and I never slept. I look at pictures from that time period and I just can't believe that it's me. I still have permatrip. I see trails and have difficulty driving at night. I still have flashbacks, but no where near as many as I used to have. I can look at the ceiling right now and see it start to shift and move and the walls breathe ever so slightly. I think I will be like this for the rest of my life. I wish that I had made wiser decisions. Now I'm 23 and I'm trying to make something for myself. I have a hard time making conversation and I stutter when I'm nervous (and I used to provide such sparkling conversation and wit!).
Over that year, I can honestly say that I tripped at least 100 times and many of those times I took more than 3 hits of acid. My average was 5, but I've done as much as 8 at one time. I also used ecstasy and marijuana regularly. I know that I've fried myself out and a lot of my friends have to. I feel really guilty for turning on my friends to acid. Some of them have gone totally nuts and fried themselves out on harder drugs and some don't really do that much anymore, but I think their lives would have been a lot simpler if I hadn't introduced them to that stupid peice of paper. I have regrets, but I also have wonderful memories. Perhaps with time, I will recover completely and the memories will become rose-tinted with age. Until then, I long for acid. I want to do it so badly, but I stay away and plan to forever.
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