Citation: SaltOfHell. "A Long Time to Stand, an Hour to Fall: An Experience with Methamphetamine (exp55680)". Erowid.org. Jun 17, 2009. erowid.org/exp/55680
I began using meth when some guy called me and my best friend in college and asked if we wanted to try it. I still remember where we were, the street corner we were rounding onto wilshire boulevard in my car when he called, because at that moment I made the Crucial and Devastating decision to ignore my better judgement and break my commitment to avoiding hard addictive stuff. Since that moment my life has changed forever. I wish I hadnít needed to become an addict in order to know how to trust my own gut feelings. My mother once told me, 'Don't do any drug that doesn't come out of the ground naturally' (ie: psilocybin, cannabis, mescaline, sage, etc... LSA and maybe LSD) and I think that's a pretty good rule of thumb to avoid serious and crippling addiction.
We bought a gram that night and did only a tiny bit each. I felt so excited and rebellious. The dude who sold it to us taught us how to use a flat surface and a dollar bill to keep the meth from flying around when you crushed it. We each snorted a tiny little line, smaller than any line I would ever take again. But it was enough to keep us going all night and the rest of the next day.
It's funny how people who are so similar in their mentality and upbringing can have such opposite reactions. It could be genetics or individual motivations- what you want versus what the drug gives you. My best friend just tweaked on her PC the whole night, mentioning every hour or so that she was kind of scared by the potency of this shit. I, on the other hand, was experiencing the first joyous moments of a 3-year addiction. I cleaned my room so very meticulously that night. Usually I am a fairly neat person but I tend to avoid things like dusting and wiping down surfaces. I was climbing onto my desk to reach the ceiling and to get the dust off of the books on my shelf, organizing the closet like 3 times over, and feeling so damn good. I felt fired up, energized, glowing with productivity and motivation, like there was a rush to my soul that empowered me and made me confident.
My best friend never used it again after that night. I used it every damn day for the next 3 years of my life. I lost weight (a big selling point for college girls), lost friends, dropped out of school a year later, and wasted anyone's money who would loan it to me on methamphetamine. I had random and unprotected sex because I didn't think of the consequences and had no inhibitions anymore. I couldn't be around those I cared about yet I needed to be in the company of others, I formed a group of friends that included other closet addicts (cokeheads and my dead-by-suicide, heroin junkie soulmate) and straight-up lying, stealing tweekers.
I can't imagine how I didn't pull myself out of the addiction sooner. I am a good person, a kind and caring individual who had many opportunities. I guess it had to get to the point where I couldn't deny the manifestations of my disease. I stopped 'having fun' while tweeking. I had skin rashes, poor circulation, decaying teeth, speed bumps and graying skin that was perpetually greasy. People had stopped telling me I was gorgeous and started asking if I was getting enough sleep, wondering if I was 'okay.'
So the upshot is: I am clean and have been for 6 months. Anyone can do it. Staying clean isn't as hard as it seems once you make up your mind about it. The decision to quit was pretty natural, I'd just reached the point where I had NOTHING LEFT. It's no fun to tweek by yourself when all your friends are gone and you have no job. Depending on people as an adult is lame. I pushed away the people I loved and felt guilty for being secretive and distant. Then, I realized that I hated and couldn't respect the druggies around me. I had lost the hard work I'd put into my education and relationships before the drug. I knew the time was right to quit. Tweeking was no longer worth the consequences. I wasn't having fun anymore and I was paranoid. The comedown sucked. I felt guilty. All this stuff made me pissed off and annoyed with the whole tweeker world. I was angry with the drug. I was furious for every second I spent, spracked out of my mind, and not even enjoying it.
When I came off, the first month was spent in depression and total inactivity. I needed to find my soul again and was energized only by the concept of a forgiving God. AA helped a lot in the beginning because the people there were in positions like mine. Once I got sick of the depression I had to tackle it head on. I got prescribed some different bipolar meds and actually took them this time. I'd stopped taking them 6 years before. Lamictal and Wellbutrin together have made me function like a normal human being again. This is not to say that I recommend meds for every ex tweeker. However, once I got off the mind numbing soulless gak I found myself with pre-existing or new mental issues that I can't ignore anymore.
I wanted to write this because I have met people along the downward spiral who have said things to me that helped me come to this *happy* point in my life. I'll end with the truest thing anyone ever told me: 'I see that you are at a fork in your life. This is an important time for you because you've got to choose one path or the other, and THEY ARE BOTH VERY DIFFICULT. But one way is worth the pain and suffering, and the other way is where you will end up if you make no decision at all.'
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