Citation: HypnotiQ. "El Diablo: An Experience with 2C-P & Cannabis (exp97248)". Erowid.org. Nov 21, 2012. erowid.org/exp/97248
||(powder / crystals)
Seeing an old friend stirred up some even older memories that I felt should be documented and published for the well-being of all researching psychonauts. This is my first-hand report of a 2C-P overdose experienced by both myself and my friend, Steve.
A Little Background
HypnotiQ: I myself, am twenty years old and am rather experienced in the ways of exploring the psyche, it's been one of my primary curiosities ever since I was young. By the age of 13 I was constantly researching hallucinogenics, my primary interest being Psilocybin Mushrooms. I'd always wanted to see visions like I'd seen in so many cartoons before. It was an attraction so fierce it's difficult for me to describe it, other than an intense curiosity.
Fast forward to age twenty, I've taken any psychoactive material of recreational value that interested me and it'd be pointless to name them off, just know that I'm experienced.
Steve: I met Steve at school when I was sixteen years old, ever since then, we've been chilling and smoking Cannabis most of the four years we've known each other. Other than Cannabis, the only Psychotropics he'd ever touched before is one gram of Shrooms which he claimed to be, “an awesome time”.
It all started when I received an order I'd previously thought would never arrive; at that point, I truly believed that I'd been scammed by the company. It'd been around six weeks after the money was removed from my account and two weeks after my vendor's site had gone offline. After multiple attempts to contact him, and having heard no word from site administrator, I'd pretty much given up all hope of ever receiving the parcel. However, despite all doubts, for some reason or another, I had this odd feeling that it would be there that day, even saying to Steve, “How weird would it be if that [parcel] just showed up today?”.
I threw the parcel at Steve, feeling an ear to ear grin spread across my face. He read who it arrived from and instantly his face replicated mine.
Unfortunately, the milligram scale I'd ordered didn't arrive the day I'd expected it too; we were both heavily impatient, that was our first mistake. I wasn't familiar with the powder's density, but regardless, I still eyed out two similar doses to what I believed to be 16mg and 32mg ( a few years previously when I'd been experimenting with 2C-B I needed at least 30mg [taken orally] to be able to achieve close-to peak effects). I knew that 2C-P was slightly more potent than 2C-B with an enormous dose curve, I did my homework.
Two samples of powder (even of the same chemical) with equivalent volumes won't necessarily weigh the same. For this reason, eyeballing is an inaccurate and potentially dangerous method of measuring, particularly for substances that are active in very small amounts.
See this article on The Importance of Measured Doses.]
Our biggest mistake was changing the, “normal”, method of consumption to intranasal (snorting) in able to avoid the enormous dose-responsive curve (keep in mind these doses were NOT SAFELY WEIGHED). I took my line first [which was slightly bigger than my friend's dose] and was thrust into a land of pain, so bad I didn't feel any effects, just immense, intolerable pain. I remember looking up through teary-eyes at a generally concerned looking Steve and saying,
“Oh..Oh..my..god it burns...sooooo..baad!”
He looked at his dose and goes, “I'm not so sure about this”, it was at this point I was getting slammed with highly uncomfortable effects. My chest felt extremely light and it was in no way an enjoyable sensation. My shoulders felt like they were being electrocuted with amount of intolerable anxiety that began pumping in odd patterns. I felt so overly and completely unnaturally-stimulated, forcibly my eyes bugged open as far as humanly possible. My visual field quickly became illuminated with dancing geometry of such complex patterning (this at first was quite beautiful). Quickly, worried of my inexperienced friend I calmed my voice (which was panicked, due to natural reaction to your heart beating that quickly, I was also breathing very deeply to bring on the calm) and said,
“Dude, don't do it this it's way to intense, you don't want this”, trying to establish as much seriousness in my tone as I possessed at that moment.
“I really want to trip”, he insisted looking a bit insulted.
I debated in my head for a moment, though it was getting increasingly difficult to hold a conversation and control the rising anxiety, while the entire time my nose was still burning at twice the intensity of when we began.
“Just take half”.
So, he did.
Steve's eyes were instantly panicked.
There were 1,000 thoughts racing through my head on how to best contain to rising situation and trying my best to ignore the, “I don't like this, I want it to go away”, feeling creeping. I knew I had a good 12-18 hrs ahead, and it'd only been about 10mn.
“I don't like this, I can't stand it, my nose hurts so bad, everything is fucking moving. When does it end?”, Steve said exasperated, his tone touching panic into my heart. I felt his pain interlaced with my own.
Me: “It's alright, let's listen to the dead”
Steve: “No, no music, I feel so sick, I just want it to go”
Me: “It's not going anywere for at least 8 Hours, we have to deal with this”
Steve: “I don't know if I..”
Me: “We can! We are strong we will make it, relax”
Steve: “I just wanna smoke some weed”
We then made our way to the bong, of which I packed a full-bowl, in a decently big hitter, of some super-dank one-hitter quitter for him to take straight to the face.
He took it all one hit, no problem. In fact, he didn't even cough. He blew the smoke out, set the bong down and looked at me, and in the most horrified tone I'd heard out of him in the entire span of our friendship said,
“I couldn't even feel the smoke in my lungs, I don't feel high at all. We can't get high, we can't get stoned, what do we do?”.
I just looked at him with sadness in my eyes, my panic was rising so immensely it was difficult for me to hold, and I wasn't even scared for my life, there was just simply too much energy/electricity stimulating my psyche, or at least that's what I think. I remember he exasperatingly walked away and sat down on the couch in the living room with his hands over his eyes,
“There's too much light, even when I close my eyes, it won't go away I don't like this”, he whined.
I sat down and just talked to him a lot about what he's feeling right now, and reassured him that it will go away and to be as patient as possible. He sat in the same hands-to-his-eyes (I was checking to make sure he wouldn't dig his eyes out) position and listened to me (I'd noticed, a controlled-calm voice seemed to soothe him). I continued to assure him this is not a journey that he had to be on alone, he's got his best friend right at his side, that his brother had his back. Finally, I brought up a topic looming in the back of my head based on my own feelings at that moment and said,
“And straight serious right now dude, I love you, your my brother til the end and I don't know what I'd do without you. No matter what, I mean no matter how horrible it gets, because it will get worse, I'm just being honest with you, know what I mean?”, I waited for him to nod in order to be sure I still had his attention before continuing,
“I am not trying to panic you, I've been here before in this world of uncertainty and fear and I only wish to make this as easy as possible for you (I did a lot of buttering up, in an effort not to say the wrong string of words and set panic, he seemed very fragile). There might be points where you feel it won't end, but it will I swear to god it will, you might feel like I'm talking a lot of shit and have no idea what I'm talking about, but I do, Steve, I swear to god, I do; I wouldn't sit here and spew bullshit, this right now is a situation in need of extreme attention and careful operating. And seriously, listen to me as deep as you can right now and replay my voice if you find yourself on the wrong path of thought, it will end, we will make it, and even in your deepest hell, SUICIDE IS NEVER THE ANSWER.”.
As I finished, his face twisted into a grimace and he dropped his hands. The burning in my nose had just began to subside, but what felt like the worst sensation in the world, was rapidly multiplying.
He looked up to the sky, tears in his eyes, my heart started beating even faster,
“Steve, look at me. Look at me, seriously, you are my brother! I would never let anything hurt you, including yourself..”
“I hate it so much”, he quickly exasperated in a sickeningly sad tear-filled tone.
“Steve it will go away I swear to god!”, he shook his head and put his face back in shaky palms.
“Steve, listen to me! Look at me!”, he dropped his hands and dragged his gaze over to my concerned eyes.
“Steve, I will be right here at your side, it will go away! It is not worth losing an entire life over a scary day. We need to focus on how to survive any potentially life threatening physical symptoms we feel, we need to distract ourselves and do something. Steve, I need you as much as you need me right now, don't leave me alone here man, please, I got your back dude”.
He laid back once more and sort of groaned sort of whined out, “I won't I promise just let me sit here and relax alone for a few, alright, please? I'll help you too dude, I promise, I wont do anything stupid, I just need sometime, I'll be right here”. There was a general understanding between him and I, I trusted he'd be safe,
“I'll be back to check in a little bit”
I retreated to my room, relieved to be away from the tension his obvious panic was bringing. Closing the door seemed to relax me and my heartbeat finally returned to a more natural, and comfortable speed. The silence was so very, well, silent and had an eerie hang to it. I decided to put on, Touch of Grey by The Dead. At first, the drums (which on a normal LSD trip intoxicate me) shot me into extreme anxiety and I nearly exited the music program. But due to difficulty operating the computer while in such a, “fucked up state”, I decided to sit-back and give'em a chance to work their magic. I closed my eyes in an attempt to meditate and listened very deeply.
Upon closing my eyes I was instantly immersed in dynamic, complex, rapidly changing/merging/flashing 2-D geometric patterns. I was literally struggling to analyze the visuals and had to stop due to rising motion sickness. I opened my eyes and my previous visual field multiplied to an extent where I could hardly focus on anything, I felt a rising sickness and knew instantly it had to be done. I ran out of my room straight for the kitchen sink and brutally puked my brains out. It was a burning sensation so terrible in my stomach, even after I stopped puking I felt it necessary to push more out. But even after there was nothing left in my stomach, there still remained the terrible nauseousness. I remember looking at the clock and seeing it'd only been 20 minutes, then looking down into the sink at what came up (I hadn't eaten anything that day and was sort of praying to see some of the substance undissolved in my stomach acids). There was a very strange pile of blue mucous, of which I guessed was the undissolved 2C-P. This relieved me, as I believed my body had removed the poison as it's defense’s are meant.
Back in my room, sitting in my chair listening to, “I willllll geet by, I will survice”, just brought such illumination and happyness into my soul, I stated to laugh heavily. Everything seemed to be getting a slightly more tolerable state (though far, far from comfortable).
I smoked a cigarette and began to meditate again. My instant feeling on channeling my chi was a heavy, heavy current streaming straight up (my comfortable level is a slow down flow), it took a few minutes just to stop the up stream and proved nearly impossible to push down. It Took a lot of convincing of myself that I could do anything and, 'no drug is going to stop me', before I began to feel a relaxing steady downward current.
I felt in control once more; it was in this break of the storm, I took advantage and laid out what I'm calling a, “foundation for positive thought”. Basically, I'd think inspirational thoughts that I could recall later in a time of peril. Also, in recalling the thoughts it also tells me I set these thoughts up because I knew I was on a drug and could freak out, forcing a sense of reality out of the drugs grasp.
I began falling in love with the dead all over again, I had the urge to dance, run, jump, but nausea set-those urges aside. Steve walked into the room with a sly smile and simply said,
“Dude I am the most fucked up I've ever been in my entire life! The ceiling is..”
“Pulsating veins? Deep Dark Red/Violet?”, I interrupted, for some reason, so sure he had the same visuals as I. His jaw dropped in astonishment,
“You see that shit too?!?!”, we both laughed for what felt like 10 minutes and I put on more of The Dead.
I know in the back of both of our heads we had the same thought, 'Oh god..It's intensity is reproaching'.
Over the span of 5-15minutes, music became far too much to focus on, visuals seemed to repress a bit, however in its place, the electric anxiety in my arms spiked from extremely irritating to debilitating. I was extremely worried about Steve, he'd grown quiet as well, and the psychological trauma felt enough to drive a normal man insane.
Once more, I closed my eyes, feeling my heart pounding out of my chest faster than the speed of sound, I felt pain deep in the center of my heart which then shot an nerve shock through my entire system, leaving me lightheaded and dazed with a slight ringing in my ears. My heart began to feel as though it was beating spontaneously, off rhythm. I began to feel pangs of pain deep in the center of my heart, sending flurries of nerves.
I felt my vision began to darken and was 100% concerned for my life. I knew that any break in concentration would cause the situation to spiral far out of my control. So, I swallowed my fears and told myself, 'what happens, happens, I have to try my best to get Steve out of this'. I stood up and said, “I'm going to the bathroom, I'll grab you a water”. The panging in my heart made me hyper alert to all of the common mistakes of the horror stories I'd heard.
We began drinking lots of water, and the intensity just kept rising, there was no break. Steve was breaking I could see it in his eyes, it scared me deep. Instantly I felt I knew what to do,
“Steve, I think we may potentially be overheating and are unable to recognize it because we're so fucked up. We need to go take cold showers, it'll be hard, but it needs to be done”.
I stepped into the shower and gently adjusted to ice-cold water, then a little colder, and hopped in. Cold instantly crept up my spine, into every part of my body, it was then I noticed that my back, chest, arms, and part of my legs were completely numb. I tensed my muscles, which proved to be more of a task then I'd anticipated. In a hypothetical attempt to keep blood pumping to all extremities. I could feel the hot pouring off my body in layers and slowly, the seemingly impossible buzz began to die back to a, 'just barely tolerable' level, but it gave me more hope.
I remember hopping out of that ice-cold shower into a room full of steam.
Afterwords, the stairs seemed far too daunting (the shower was upstairs), so we decided to camp it out upstairs. Steve felt much better, but he wanted to lay down in the dark. We laid in silence for twenty minutes before the buzz started to increase once more, hopping between tolerable and a feeling of, 'Please KILL ME NOW!'.
Steve finally snapped, and began pleading for me to take him to the hospital, saying he tried so hard and he was sorry but he doesn't want to die.
“You won't die I prom...”
“I'm sorry, I can't do this, I..I..Can't”
“Say no more, I'll alert my mother, she'll take us in; an ambulance will only terrify you.”,
After telling my mom of our stupidity and asking for her advice she came to talk to Steve with me. She and I both know that hospital staff does not appropriately respond to those in panic from psychotropic substance and do far more damage than good. She reassured him she would check on us constantly and only call when the physical symptoms seemed fit. Checked our temperatures, which were only slightly elevated, my mothers caring words pushed me to see past my pain and to make Steve's easier, which also distracted me from the mind consuming sensations. We talked about life and how easily people forget how great it truly is. He must have said 1000 times,
“Just weed, I will never trip again.”...It killed me that I'd ruined such a beautiful thing for someone, I was so angry with myself I just fell into thought, I don't know where the time went.
Finally, the trip started dying down in intensity in a slow, yet constant, dip. The trip from that point became highly enjoyable and reminded me of goodtimes candyflipping, we laughed loads, and listened to The Dead, Simon and Garfunkel, Floyd, and a bunch of other feel good music. We went outside and we enjoyed the dimming into night, Steve finally felt as though he was able to sleep and did so. I was awake until about five that morning, the visuals were so bright it was hard to keep my eyes closed. I mean, it literally hurt from the intensity of the brightness at points. My pitch black room was dancing with colors and stars, I don't remember falling asleep.
The next day we had a wake and bake session, and wouldn't ya know, the milligram scale came in the mail.
I consider this experience to be one of the most important I've ever had in life. It showed me that I could stay calm in an incredibly tense and traumatic situation and give assistance to those in need. It showed me my passion to thrive and survive, it showed me how much I cared for my friends, that I'd put their safety over mine in a situation few other may rise to. Steve also said he appreciated the experience, he felt as though it was necessary for him and he no longer feels the need to journey the psychotropic unknown, just smoke ganja. I thought I'd feel the same, I did at times the day before, but I survived and I learned so very much. I still to this day am waiting for that moment when I no longer feel as though I need explore those worlds, that moment has yet to arrive. The knowledge and understanding of a selfless person is very difficult to achieve in a pride-ran nation, but the perspective is so very important to have in your palette, to understand, to see beyond your own beliefs and delve in to any possibility. The thoughts perceived on a psychoactive substance is not PRODUCED or CAUSED by that substance, but rather are the thoughts of the subject placed in a multitude of senses they've never experienced before, opening the gate, even if only for a peek.
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