I want to start this journal with a long ramble about how my addiction came to be. The tl;dr of it all is that I have a penchant for the "legal" stuff- prescription pills, Kratom, OTC drugs, and my favorite little demon of all, PST.
My first experience with drugs was back in high school. I had awful cramps, and I took two codeine pills that was leftover from my sister's surgery. After my first class, it didn't do much, so I took two more. I wasn't intending on getting high; hell, I didn't even realize that I could get high on them, but nonetheless, they knocked me right off my feet. I cut the rest of my classes and hid out on the crusty library sofa, drifting in and out of consciousness with a book dangling in front of my face to fool the librarian. I guess I just assumed that I was groggy from the pills, and didn't think much of it until years later.
It wasn't until University that I probed a bit deeper. I'd gotten drunk before, and I'd gotten stoned before, but neither of them really excited me. Still, there was something inside of me that longed for the escape that I'd heard users speak of, because the depression and the stress of both school and transitioning to adulthood was wearing me down. I was skirting the line between suicidal and critically depressed, and I felt like the whole world was rushing by me, and I just couldn't keep up. I felt like my father's love was unwarranted, and I felt like I would never live up to my mother's standards. And all of this, I felt like I wasn't allowed to express, because my life was so good, right? My parents loved me, they supported me with their money and their words, and they gave me every opportunity to find my happiness, so if I couldn't find it, it must be my own fault.
I wanted the world to stop, just for a little while. So I thought back to those pills that I'd taken in high school, and I got to wondering what would happen if I just... took them all. There were 5 left. I did a cold water extraction (thank you, drugs-forum!) and gagged the bitter brew down. Then I waited. And waited. This was my only shot to get high- I prayed that 5 pills would be enough for my petite, drug-naive self. Twenty minutes later, the codeine hit me like a pile of warm, downy feathers, rushing through my arms and legs, and giving me my first ever taste of drug fueled euphoria. I yanked my bedding off and made a pile to lay in on the floor, and I listened to music, read books, watched movies, and cuddled up with my pillows and blankets, content that all of my problems were locked outside of my mind for as long as the drugs were in me.
I found out that I could buy codeine in small amounts from my local pharmacist, which I did the next day. I waited a while until I had the house to myself, then got high again. Then again the next Saturday. And again. It carried on like that for months, but I was in control. I used once a week, no more, no less. Sometimes, it was 5 days, sometimes 10. I was happy. It was like a weekend treat for me, and I needed such a small dose to get high that the bottle that the pharmacist gave me was set to last several months, so as long as I kept myself in check, nothing would appear amiss when I went to get the next bottle.
I discovered Kratom months after I started using codeine, and liked it a lot. It wasn't as raw as the codeine was, but it was cheap, it was legal, and I didn't have to deal with lying to the pharmacist's face. Soon after, I tried poppy seed tea for the first time, and it shot me into outer space. I was glowing for hours, lying in bed, listening to my favorite songs, feeling like I'd finally found my own personal heaven. I was thrilled for a while, feeling like my semi-legal, semi-soft drugs were nothing more than an occasional way to unwind from the stressors of life, no worse than having a cold beer on a Friday night.
I didn't get physically addicted until a full year since my first codeine high. I ran out of Kratom, and went into shivering withdrawals while I awaited my next batch. Once I was through my withdrawals, I tried to use less, but it didn't last long. My urge to self medicate my depression was very strong- I'd been on multiple different SSRIs, but they didn't help much. The only thing that made me really want to live was my next high.
That was four years ago. Along the way, I drifted away from Kratom and latched onto PST. My addiction crept up so slowly, until I was using daily, then twice a day. I can't remember the last time that I went a day without using PST, but I know it's been over a year, maybe even two. In the past few months, I've crept up to 2x a day, and it terrifies me.
My next entry will be about the impending vacation and what I plan to do, and why.