Citation: Bethany. "Will You Marry Me?: An Experience with Methadone & Alprazolam (Xanax) (ID 32511)". Erowid.org. May 26, 2006. erowid.org/exp/32511
BACKGROUND: I am an 18 year old female in fairly good physical shape - I can run, hike and shoot some hoops, I mean, but nothing incredible. I smoke cigarettes and marijuana and will probably die a slow painful death of lung decomposition; also, I use dxm on a very regular basis. I include this information to give a general idea of my health, my average mindset, and to allow you to use that information to pick out any biases that exist in my interpretation of an experience.
Today was part of the start of the freshest of springs, and I have recently discovered a friendship with a young man for which I am very glad. There were plans to get some methadone and spend an evening together with his shag carpet and a little marijuana. I have had a particularly excellent week, and my mood could not have been better this afternoon when I had my very first experience with methadone. I trusted my friend very much and enjoyed his company perhaps more than I could possibly have enjoyed any drug experience, so as we drove off to the place where we would make our transaction, I was thrilled to eat a teeny xanax (.25 mg) and begin preparing my mind for a blissful and stimulating evening.
I must make clear that there could have been no better setting. The company I was in and the way that I've felt recently gave me the freshest attitude and healthiest possible brain for my experience. I have been talking very well with my mother, remembering my dreams, getting laid, writing a lot of poetry and just generally being very full-minded for some time now, particularly because of the weather. Perhaps if I had taken my first taste of methadone in a dark room late at night in the winter with a sad feeling, I would have found it only sedating and comfortable. I believe that this like all downers should be taken in the best of moods, though of course at the peak of the experience I described it to my friend the most accurate way: 'I could not be sorrowful if I tried.'
When I took the xanax, it was about 4:00 pm and the only food in my stomach was a 10am omelette. I chewed it up like a champ (I am a little girl about tastes that are terrible, yet I manage to swallow so much cough syrup!) and spent the longest time playing with my digital camera. I mention this because ultimately, I would like to emphasize the point that my 'glowing experience' with methadone was the direct result of my happy mood and carefree attitude towards the spring night.
At about five o'clock, I ate half a methadone. Being unfamiliar with this stuff, I have no idea what the exact dosage was. Let's just say it was a big orange semi-tasty very water soluble slice of goodness. We stopped by my house to get my mother to roll us a joint (a few months ago right before my 18th birthday she decided we'd both come out of the closets and start smoking together). By six o'clock the beautiful things began and so now my words will only grow more abstract and dramatic.
We went to a familiar field and hid on a rock in the woods. Passing the joint back and forth felt good, like it always does - smoking pot beside a cute boy in the woods is an experience with which I am familiar but always fascinated - but the pills in my mind and body were adding to it a dimension lovelier than any that marijuana alone could produce. Part of it I am sure was the intense affection that I was feeling for the person with whom I was in such deliciously close contact. But there was also an undeniable effect of the methadone, in the pulses of pleasure my limbs enjoyed, in my swimming head and in the way my stomach would lurch into a grin and I would grab his shoulder, closing my eyes and seeing the loveliest patterns of the negatives of his face.
After more picture taking we stood to go, climbing wobbily up the steep hill. I barely balanced, swaying with the weight of my purse and brilliant narcotic lack of coordination. By this point the sight of the sun in the trees filled me with a joy I could not contain in my mind at once without letting go of substantial parts of it for fear of emotional collapse; it was truly that heavy. Again, one reading this to learn more about the effects of methadone should in no way regard this aspect of my report as evidence that methadone is magic. It's not: what's magic is the earth's soil and the shining sun and april's cloud formations and someone else's smile - what methadone does is making me come home later that night and write about it in such a flowery way that I sound almost ridiculous, almost... high. What methadone did was enhance the joy I woke up with this morning as a product of anticipation. But this, my friends, gets better!
Methadone, it takes a little while. It takes a little while and at first I feel light, heavy or light whichever, fluctuation regardless in the gravity of my body and to make a silly pun, the gravity of my thoughts goes wild as well, from silly to somber from intense to idiotic. We got to his house and went into his basement where the walls are purple and blue and the couch is comfortable. His backscratcher was there with us of course, and there was nothing better. The itching is amazing, the scratches down my legs and bruises are amazing, the itching is amazing because it can be produced just by scratching, the deep pleasure of immediate physical gratification and the rawness of it, our hands under our shirts without inhibition or worry or anything but a pseudo-sexual pile of limbs scratching all of each other, ecstatic. Then just the bliss of knowing, I am here, I am here in this great place, and the night is fresh.
So there's more pot, there's more xanax, there's a little bit of warm and delicious rum. These things are irrelevant, we are inside and couches are live and there is a game of basketball on television which we are watching fiercely and with interest. Mostly there is methadone, our itching limbs. Its climax was a totally irresistable carpet-rolling session, sans pants, with backscratcher in hand and fingernails all over the place. There was something more animalistic and natural about that than anything I have ever done, with the exception of certain times when I have crawled on all fours speaking in gutteral tongues after too much dxm. But that is always alone, that is delusional - this was shared, life, very alive and simply freed from whatever it is that keeps us people out of each other's arms and faces and hairs.
There was also conversation, my stomach churning with the drugs as though I might be feeling sick if I were anywhere close to this earth on which vomit could be a problem. It was a delcious nausea. The words in my mouth were medicinal. Nothing vile could escape either of us; there was nothing vile in the universe or on that couch - the universe which was of course that couch and fingernails on my skin - in fact there was nothing less than perfectly shaped by the hands of some god, et cetera et cetera. There were thoughts about god, real thoughts about god - I have been smoking pot since I was fifteen years old and using other substances ranging from meth to dxm since about that time as well, and never since the very beginnings of my experiences with drugs have I felt the presence of god while intoxicated. Rather than take this as a sign I take it as evidence of this drug's powerful mood-altering and mind-opening effects. Effects that I love, positively love and adore and love again.
So time passed, backs were scratched and heads petted, feelings were felt and laughs were shared, I believe by now I have given you the correct idea. There was more pot and a lot of stumbling and confusion, but at all times I felt greatly greatly happy. I fell very asleep on the way home, and was given a goodbye hug which seemed amplified greatly for the recent intimate memories. Now I am unable to sleep though very comfortable, and it is 5:00am.
In conclusion, I give methadone a huge thumbs up. However, using it too much seems to me a bad idea, simply because of my immediate and powerful adoration of it, and warnings from several friends who tend to take their drugs too far. Kept to a minimum, I imagine it will be a useful tool in my mind-altering adventures. It very much aided the mental/physical connection between me and my friend, and just created an overall mood which I can only describe as fucking fantastic!
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