Thursday, March 31, 2005

Bouncing Bovine - Lesson 2

I have been battling depression my whole life, but when I felt like it was my job to make this one person happy, I instantly started spiraling towards this very dark place, where it was suddenly beyond depression. It was intentionally self-destructive, and opiate in origin. I had no clue how to deal with the misery I mentioned in part 1. I felt like the scum of the fucking earth because I couldn't make him happy. I felt like I couldn't be good at anything.

They don't teach you in school that narcotics are not only easy to find, but a wonderful way to forget about stress, and depression, and that pesky relationship you're sure is going to fail. You know the one, of course... we all have them at some point or another. We'd give up everything, even our soul, just to make this work... just for a bit of success.

When that time didn't come for me...when success did not grace my doorway with it's presence, I didn't give up on it. Not on him. Or on me, for that matter. I took all my stress, all my anger, my depression, everything, and I imploded with it. I turned inward. And I had a breakdown, to be perfectly honest about the matter. I *had* to make it work. I had to be successful. If I could make it work, I could conquor the fucking world.

Or that's what I thought.

They don't teach you emotions, or morals when you're in college. They don't teach you how to handle your own built up stress. I thought I had it figured out, the secret to life. Be a good person, be open, receptive, gentle, caring, compassionate, but with boundries, and while life itself may not go as planned, relationships would at least be easy. I thought this was a good plan. And it worked, for the most part. In fact, success did not come at all. I couldn't save the relationship. I couldn't make it work. I couldn't save him, and I couldn't save myself. I suppose that's my first mistake, assuming I needed to be saved.

When I couldn't make it work...and after I imploded, I lashed out, at people around me, but especially myself. I took all this internal rage, and depression, and my feelings of failure, and I turned them against myself in the form of drugs, and razor blades.

Sure, everybody knows about the typical drugs: coke, heroin, pot, acid, meth, x, oxycodone, morphine, etc etc...most people expect to do those at some point in their life. And sure, they're fun, but nobody teaches you in school about opiates. Like Hydrocodone. I slipped. I wavered. I was gone. Self destructive, and I thought I was past the point of no return. I felt as though the doors that had been opened to me, and the things that I had learned about who I am, and who I'm going to be, didn't matter, because plain and simple: I couldn't survive.

I stumbled across hydrocodone, and it suddenly got better. I could deal. I could survive. I was not exactly myself, so to speak, but a calmer, more lathargic, rational, version of myself who could keep an even temper, because, plain and simple, I was practically sedated. Being sedated was nice. I didn't have to deal. I could I could be, and I could be left alone, and I could be uninterupted. Hydrocodone is how I found my calm in the eye of the storm.

Hydrocodone is a narcotic in origin, in addition to being an opiate. 5mg of hydrocodone is equivalent to 30 mg of codeine, and 15mg (1/4g) is equilivent to 10mg of morphine. Because it is prescription in nature, easy to find, and much cheaper than coke ($2-$4 a pill, and a pill will provide you with 4 lines, when you only really need 1-2 lines to get tanked), it quickly became my drug of choice. It's highly addictive. I warn you.

It creates a euphoria - much like opium and heroin - the euphoria is calm, and provides a smooth wave of serenity. The easiest way to get it into your system is to slice, and grind the pill (razor blade & state ID card) and then snort it, in a line, as if you were doing coke. The effect is almost instant, and overwhelming. To make the rush even greater, put it in a spoon, add some water, and heat it with a lighter until it steams, and then pop 2 advil. What they don't teach you is that this is a crucial event in your life. They don't teach you that you needed to do opiates; that you needed to become self destructive in order to become stronger than you were before.

It was a dark time in my life, I know this. It was dumb; I know this too. It was scary, and unreasonable. I'm not making excuses.

But I do accept it. I do appreciate what was done. I needed this knowledge, and I needed to know, beyond a doubt, that I had the strength to cope on my own.


Post a Comment

<< Home