Citation: Blackjack Rubberband. "Prozac 'n the Sizurp Ain't a Superb Synthesis: An Experience with DXM & Fluoxtine (exp22622)". Erowid.org. Apr 2, 2003. erowid.org/exp/22622
I sit here now about 36 hours after my initial dose of DXM. It's a sunny spring afternoon and the weather leaves me with nothing but solace. In the past few days I've gained extrodinary insight into my life's current situation, the past, and the future.
I wouldn't consider myself inexperienced with DXM. I've done it probably 10 times in the last few months, each dose being somewhat greater than the last. At the time of writing this, I worked my way up to a high third-plateau dose. There has always been something that drew me to DXM. It isn't the convenience, nor is it the fact that its reported to be safe; the 'drugged-out' feeling it provides is something that neither alcohol nor marijuana could give me. It is a substance that stands alone. I don't think its effects can be considered entirely euphoric; although a mood change does indeed occur, the drug moreso provides the user with a medium to explore the depths of their own consciousness. This can be fun when one plays with the more superflous aspects of it. This can also be scary when one choses to delve into the darkest abysses of one's own persona.
The one or two weeks leading up to this dose were somewhat mundane. Spring break commenced a few weeks prior, and the lifeless nature of my vernal exploits were starting to take their toll on my spirit. I had done a few high doses of dxm over break so far, never breaking 1g if I correctly recall. I remember freaking out once when traveling with a friend who drove their car while under the influence of dxm. Don't do DXM and drive. On a later occasion, I was the only sober member aboard another nocturnal excursion, and thus became the choice as an emergency driver though I've yet to have been granted my driver's license. I had dexed the night before so I was feeling a bit spacey and 'out of it', but I'll elaborate more on that a bit later. I managed to drive safely to my town, and everyone got home okay after I found a third party to drive us all home. My friend sobered up later that evening with little to no recollection of his prior actions. DXM can be rather powerful.
The real fun started on a boring weekday night with nothing else to do. I had found out earlier that day my in-car driving classes were cancelled so I could return to bed. I awoke at 7 or 8 PM to a call on my cell phone. I wasn't doing anything, so I thought why not. I got dressed and we did our thing. Upon concluding our evening, I asked if he could give me a ride to the local CVS. He figured that since I was partial to alcohol that I enjoyed tussin's ethanol component. I explained to him what dxm was, and he agreed to go for it. CVS was closed so we stopped by Kroger, the local grocery chain around Cincinnati. 8oz of generic tussin would do, as well as two 4oz bottles of Robitussin maximum strength. A little guafessin... We returned to my house to watch a few minutes of bumfights mpegs, and then my friend went home. I had already chugged the 16oz of cherry goodness and was set to go. Dr. Mom knows best.
The effects came on after about an hour and a half. There was initial nausea but nothing enough to make the experience bad. The thought of 16oz of viscous saccharin sloshing around in my stomach was far from pleasant. Conversing on IRC soon become old and I wanted to relax. Digitally Imported is by far the finest trance streamed on the internet, so I tuned in with some studio headphones. That's when the fun began. The music took me places. I'm not sure whether I want to say I created landscapes to go with the music, or if 'soundscapes' were created. Either way, I was experiencing a good deal of closed eye visuals. This gave me great bliss for an hour or two before I decided to go back to my laptop and check on something; what that was, I'm not too sure. The date was March 31st, April Fool's Eve. I was fooled by just about every April Fool's jest I saw. There's something about DXM that makes me very gullible. Anyhow, I was reaching my peak by this time. I was about 4 hours into my trip. Something that always gets me is the insatiable urge to piss while on DXM. And I just can't do it. It can sometimes be painful, but I was prepared. If I ever do the drug again, a catheter might be in order...
I returned to my bed and allowed my mind to drift. Hallucinations aren't as prominent in a DXM trip as are the delusions for me. I could be sitting on my desk and feel as though I were outside. I knew nothing but what was exactly infront of me. It's crazy now that I think of it, how I could convince myself that a dark room was indeed a small knoll across the street. In bed, I experienced something quite amazing. While sitting there in silence, the headphones now gone, I was in touch with a sense that I'd never felt before. I recall a chemistry teacher telling me something about proprioceptors, that is neurons placed throughout your body that give you a physical sense of where your body is. I closed my eyes and I could see various parts of my body. I waved my hands and saw my hand moving through my eyelids. Crazy, absolutely crazy. I also recall some amount of strobing in my vision. I did have open eye visuals, but of a pixellated sort. My vision seemed to have lost much of its resolution, and things appeared to be blotchy or spotted, somewhat like you'd get by putting your eyes really close to a cheap TV. Pixels were subtle to very visible at times. This was about the last thing I recall from that night.
I woke up the next morning with a feeling of drunken excitement. I'm not sure if I actually slept, because I remember doing a zombie-hop to the bathroom in the wee hours of the morning. I could barely walk. My movements were entirely uncoordinated and robot-like. This is typical under the influence of DXM, however, this was the day after. I continued to experience this rigid, clumsy, uncoordinated state of movement throughout the day. Another thing I felt was a sort of excitability. I could get very excited about things that really weren't too extrodinary, almost in a maniacal sort of way. I had much trouble walking and with vision throughout the day, as well as sweating profusely for no reason at all. I was having muscle spasms when moving my legs in a rigid fashion such as shifting down a row on bleachers or hopping out of a car. I was extremely confused and I recall asking 'what the hell is going on' every few minutes during my interactions with other people.
I had experienced these symptoms before, and I figured they were the result of the prozac (which I take in a weekly time-release format) inhibiting the enzyme rensposible for the metabolism of DXM, resulting in a longer 'half-life'. I now realize how wrong I was after comparing how I felt yesterday to the symptoms listed for 'Serotonin Syndrome'. I felt precisely all of those symptoms except for the shivering and the diarrhea. I had a somewhat frightening interaction with my father that day, because of my walking, he mentioned to my brother on the phone that I was walking as if I was drunk. My dad confronted me about my strange behavior and wondered if I was having an allergic reaction of sorts because of the sweating. I assured him that I was just hot from being outside, and that I didn't sleep well, hence my apparent clumsiness.
That night I was still feeling messed up when I went to bed. I broke down and started to cry my eyes out for an hour and a half about everything that was going on. The sadness was unprovoked, and there seemed to be no end to it. I hadn't cried for 2 years up to that point, so it was an encouraging release. I don't no what triggered that; it may have been me realizing how stupid it was of me to stray away from my potential by using drugs, boozing, smoking, and everything else bad that was in my path. It may have been the DXM and prozac fucking with my brain, inducing some sort of chemical misery. I don't know if I'll ever know. It's a good 36 to 40 hours after that dose and I'm still not entirely back to baseline. I went out with my dad today, and I know he appreciated it. I could never crush him with my own problems. The epiphany I encountered last night may have been the result of some nasty contraindictions; however, I don't feel it lacked meaning because of that.
A thought is a thought no matter its origin. I know now how sensitive a thing the brain is, and how easily the intricate balance that exists in it can be lost. I'm not about to let that happen.
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