Citation: anonymous. "Not Something to Play Around With: An Experience with Oxycodone (exp66654)". Erowid.org. Aug 26, 2009. erowid.org/exp/66654
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Oxycontin addiction varies from individual to individual I'm sure, and my heart goes out to those who have it worse than I.
Painkillers had always freaked the shit out of me. I stayed away from harder drugs until the age of 16. I had been smoking weed just about everyday since I was about 14, and it had started to get boring. I tried yayo for the first time at the end of my junior year and loved it, but felt no addiction to it. It was fun, but the crash made it something I rarely felt like doing. A little bit before I tried yay for the first time my girlfriend at the time (who remains my girlfriend now, after 2 breakups. round 3) had tried oxycontin with a couple friends. I flipped shit, and made her extremely aware of how I felt about the stuff. I argued that it was un-natural, and thus bad. That was basically the extent of my argument. Go forward a couple months and look who's the hypocrite.
A friend of mine, Z's, dad broke his back years ago, and had been prescribed to oxycontin. Z always mentioned that his dad had it, but I had no interest in doing it. Nor did any of my friends. Z refused to take any because he saw how much his dad changed when took it everyday. His dad, D, took 6 time release 40s a day (aka oxycodone). 240mgs a day. One day a mutual friend said he wanted one, and I finally gave into my curiosity and tried an oxycodone 40mg. I chewed it, and about 15 minutes later felt a whole cluster fuck of good feeling. I can't really remember how it made me feel the first time, but I looked like absolute shit. Pale, sick looking, nauseous. My body didn't want anything to do with that devil shit. The next day I asked Z for another one, and being the kind of guy he is, he was happy to oblige. This went on for 5 more days. Pretty soon I had gone a week on oxycontin, and felt wonderful. All the time. At first I had trouble handling single 40s, but by the end of the week I could pop 1 and a half and still be awake. After 7 days I decided I would take a day off. Actually, at the time I wouldn't have phrased it like that. That kind of suggests that a habit had formed, and after only a week it couldn't, right?
I went to work at about noon and was at some at 12:30. I experienced these excruciating chest pains I never could have imagined. I was afraid I was going to have a heart attack or something. I knew that what I was feeling wasn't right. So right then I told myself I was done with the Oxycontin.
I last about a week before I get the massive cravings. Z is still giving them to me when I want (which is basically everyday), and when he steals his dads 1/2 full bottle, of about 60 40s I think I'm in heaven. A couple other friends start popping them regularly also, one of which plays a key role in my ongoing use. J. He works at a pharmacy, and during our junior year (at which time I wasn't very close to him) he had been hustling Oxycontins for thousands. He made about $4,000 all profit. And was owed another $1,800, but when his main buyer dropped out of school he kissed that $1,800 good bye and continued to live off the $4,000 he had put away. Like I said, while this was going on I didn't know him very well, and had no interest in his Oxycontin.
Me and J bonded through oxy. In fact if it weren't for OC I don't think we'd be as good of friends as we are now and always will be. When Z stops giving them to us regularly, me and J find another way of getting them. Dishonest. Illegal. Whatever you want to call it, it got us high.
When that method wasn't working we resorted to the high risk method. Well. No real risk for me, but certainly a high risk for J. Try a 30 year minimum, federal offense. He risks it though, and for a while we're pretty content with our OC use. I hadn't gone more than a couple days without it since that straight week, but tried not to do it everyday.
Then came the day where shit got fucked. J had grabbed about 35 40s at work that day, but blah blah blah, he had to take the whole bottle to avoid getting caught. All 180 of them. I knew the moment he threw that bottle in my lap that we weren't playing around anymore. We had gotten ourselves deep. 'I trust you with them more than I trust myself, you hold on to them', he said. All 180. I put them all in my hand, just to see what it felt like to hold $8,000 worth of pills. It felt damn good. I took 80mgs that night and felt great. It was free. It was in my dresser. It was worth a lot of fucking money.
Next day. 80mgs. I realized I had started to built a tolerance. I could function perfectly fine on 80mgs, whereas just weeks before I struggled to stay awake on that much. I started taking them embarrassingly. I would wake up in the middle of the night and rail a 40 just to go back to bed. Why not? It's free. I'm holding on to them, I deserve something. Then I realized something. I was waking up at almost the exact same time each night to rail those 40s. A couple times a night actually. At one point I was rollin on nearly 200mgs just to sleep, and rollin on atleast 120mgs all day long. It was getting bad.
I took a one day break and the chest pains hit like a motherfucker. I didn't go to school that day. The next day I went to school and took one on an empty stomach. Half way through first period I was in the bathroom puking, and then half an hour later at home, popping a couple more 40s to make myself feel better. At this point I'm not sure if my friends had noticed that what started as recreational drug use had become habitual. And even uncontrollable.
Somewhere in all this I made a promise to my girlfriend, who had become concerned about my frequent drug use, that I wouldn't do OC until homecoming, which was about a month off.
That was a lie, and I knew it the moment I promised her that.
A week had gone by since I received the bottle of 180. I'd given out about 20 to various people, none of whom consumed all those 20 in a week. Myself though? When I did the math I realized I'd popped nearly 25 just in the last week, if not more. (What bothered me more than that was that I was waking up in the middle of the night just to rail 40s. Just to go to sleep. If that doesn't sound like addiction I don't know what does). When we counted up what we had left we were shocked to see we only had about 115. Maybe I had popped more than 25. That was over 1000mg of oxycontin running through my brain over 7 days. Worth $500-$1000 on the street.
Finally it caught up with me. At school I was rollin on about 80mg of oxy and 30mg of adderall. I was fuuuucked up. Forgetting that I wasn't supposed to be openly high around my girlfriend I asked her to scratch my back and she instantly knew what was up. She was pissed, but being that I was so high on to OC I didn't even notice/care. I didn't call her that night, and when showed up to school the next morning she was cold and quiet. Then angry and bitchy. That school day blew, until I got home and popped another 40. I talked to her online that night and shit went further downhill. She said she'd break up with me if I ever did painkillers again, and at that point I had to explain to her how difficult it was going to be to come off of them. She had no idea I was in as deep as I was, and I hadn't even explained it honestly to her. I just said I'd been doing it a lot, and there would be withdrawals. She was unsympathetic and disgusted.
The next day I stayed home from school and popped 2 40s. The next day I tried going, but I couldn't stop thinking about some of the things she said. I left almost in tears, and by the time I had left the parking lot I was fuckin balling. I wasn't crying because I had gotten myself into it, I was crying because I didn't think I could get myself out. I couldn't imagine a week without painkillers. That day, however, I gave all of the remaining oxycontin to a good friend, N. That was about 3 weeks ago, and I have yet to quit taking oxycontin.
Right now, I've been off of it for four days. Before that, three. I'm sore. And I would probably be feeling some depression if it weren't for those 3 double stacks of MDMA and the gram of coke I sniffed last night. J decided to take a two week break along with me, because I told him I simply couldn't do it without someones help. In the last week we've boughten 3 grams of cocaine to help with the withdrawals. So far it does seem to be helping. I haven't had any confidence in my quitting oxycontin until right about now. I know it's possible, and I know that eventually I can do it. And hope that any of you reading this out there can do it too.
As for homecoming? I popped 20mgs in the morning on the way to my girlfriends house just to get rid of the soreness so I could dance. I also went through about a half gram of yay that day, followed by about 15 blue ringers and another 40mgs at the after party. None of which my girlfriend knew about. Except the shroomies.
Sorry for the unnecessary lengthiness of this story. It's more for my friends to read than strangers. Friends who have no idea that I'd gone this far.
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