Citation: A Girl Named Ruko. "My Life Was Nearly Destroyed: An Experience with Crack (exp64358)". Erowid.org. May 23, 2008. erowid.org/exp/64358
I have always been a hippie. A pot smoker, a 'Jefferson Airplane' listener and more. I have always taken a few xanaxs' every few days and everything was 'peaceful, man'. Even after fighting all of my drug demons, which continues to this day, I have been drawn to the harder drugs as if I was always meant to ingest them. No matter what I was taking, I was always previously informed (a.k.a. overly knowledgeable), calm and relaxed about taking whatever it was. Although, in the end, it didn't matter how much I had read and researched because I could never have been prepared for crack cocaine with my addictive personality.
Crack cocaine nearly destroyed my life. The first time I ever smoked it was with my mother's girlfriend whom she was having an affair with. She [my mother's girlfriend] was a known crack-addict and I had voiced to her my desire to try it one day and she responded by offering to take me to the 'trap' (the name of a certain crack house) to smoke it with her. I had been with my mother to many crack houses before to remove said girlfriend (it was always dangerous but exciting, the danger made me feel alive) but I had never conversed with the crack-heads inside and I had never actually smoked the substance before.
I remember driving up to the crack-house in my mother's Mercedes (My jeep was to easy to break in to and I didnít have my Tiburon back then) and addicts and dealers walking out would whistle at me and the car, trying to start some small talk in an attempt to get some. I was lucky I had an, at that time, level-headed butch lesbian to keep the guys off of me. Haha! I also remember walking in, being shuffled around to various rooms, stuck with some random people while she talked business with other hard-core dealers and then being stuffed in a quaint little room where I was instructed by said lesbian 'friend' on how to properly smoke out of a stem. It was one of those glass vials from those flowers you buy at gas stations. Some people just use the glass and then some, like the people where I live, place filters made of the steel brillo pads that they can lay their crack on. I was so excited about being out in the non-hippie drug world that I can't really remember the effects of smoking it.
Later on though, I re-introduced my mother to the drug and began coercing her into giving me her debit card and spending up to one-thousand dollars a night on crack. For a couple months, those months that nearly destroyed me, I was never without since I was with actual addicts that knew what they were doing. I had my mom's girlfriend and the girlfriend's two best friends (a couple) that later became my good friends after my mom's now ex went crack-crazy. They knew that the only way to keep a constant flow of crack without going bankrupt was to hustle 24/7. You would buy a buck ($100 worth) and then resell it for $150-200. They taught me how to manipulate the horny dealers that would throw you a nice $25-50 piece just as a tester. God, I've probably gotten a couple thousand worth of crack from just flirting and such.
After a couple weeks of spending all the thousands I could in order to support my 24/7 habit, I began selling off my own things and then, after a police incident where they [police] searched my house and found convicted crack-head, prostitutes and stems in my home, I began selling off my family's belongings. I didn't know it then but I was so cracked out that I just didn't care.
All I know is that this drug grabbed me quickly and after just 2-3 weeks I was sleeping with dealers, stealing, never home since I was constantly hustling crack or buying crack to smoke and I was neglecting the girlfriend (I'm omni-sexual) I had at the time. I never ate and barely drank anything. If I went more then an hour without crack I would start to withdrawal and it would be so horrible that I could do nothing but look for more. I would spend the entire day looking. Even if it was a dry spell, I wouldn't just make a few calls, I would drive to every crack house with my pals and I would go to every place and call every person and not stop until I found some.
When I was on it, at first at least, I would feel hyper, happy and like I ruled the world. Nothing could stand in my way! That high stays with you for a little bit but after smoking it for just a few days it fades quickly and then you do nothing but chase that feeling of your first, and only, great high for the rest of your crack smoking life. Addicts' just can't admit that they'll never be able to repeat, re-feel, their first amazing high. Although my best high wasn't my first. One of my friend's was getting some seriously pure stuff, and I had recently switched to a metal from a glass stem (metal is the only way to go!), he offered me a big, big hit for letting him use my stem and when I took one of my amazingly big hits while standing (veteran drug-heads are amazed by how much smoke I can inhale in my little body) I was knocked on my ass, thankfully landing on the bed behind me, and lost my ability to walk for a good few minutes.
In the end it got so bad that, while smoking in front of my mother and another crack-head pal, I had a seizure, my heart stopped and my own mother had to give me CPR for a while. I was told that I was foaming at the mouth and everything. I blacked out and don't remember the seizure but all I remember is suddenly sitting up in my mother's bed, after being placed in the bed after CPR, although I didn't know how I got there, and begging for another big hit of crack. I believe I had another seizure but that might have been to a soma over-dose (called a somatose where I live) which was regular since I always took a shit-load to ease my crack withdrawals, I just don't remember.
From my experience, my mother's affair was ruined, my life was put in danger multiple times, I was sexually molested multiple times, I prostituted myself to dealers for drugs and my family and friends could easily tell I had a drug problem and lost all trust from them and caused everyone to want to 'save' me.
I would love to smoke it again sometime. Maybe I will one day, I might buy a buck or two ($100-200) as long as I know I have a big-ass handful of somas' because that is the only drug (when I take five or so) that can knock me off my ass and when I come to I temporarily lose my craving for crack for a day or three. If I take even one hit of crack without any somas' then I will automatically turn into a 'monster' just as before (like me and my mother describe myself on crack) and I will ultimately die from said drug.
Powder cocaine on the other hand has a relaxing/calming effect on me like a way, way more intense hydro (or a very small, maybe 10-20mg dose of oxy). Go figure. Haha! Oh, and I've recooked crack before with nice results but I've never been able to cook up crack from powder cocaine that I've purchased. I've bought powder from two different cities too. Although my bad results are probably due to poor quality and/or overly-cut cocaine since the shit I've purchased has always been snow white and super-fine. What I want is a sickly yellow color and a greasy-like powder that forms into little rocks. I won't give you readers' a recipe for crack though, sorry.
COPYRIGHTS: All reports are copyright Erowid and you agree not to download or analyze the report data without contacting Erowid Center and receiving permission first.
Experience Reports are the writings and opinions of the individual authors who submit them.
Some of the activities described are dangerous and/or illegal and none are recommended by Erowid Center.