The recent drug thread in NSG brought this on. I feel its worth sharing with you.

I'm not gonna get on a soapbox and preach. Thats not why I am writing this. I'm just telling it like it is. The way it happened, the way it felt. I'm not trying to convince you of anything. I'm just showing you another perspective.

Before I get into this, lets clarify a few things to answer any questions you might have. I had asthma as a kid, I still have it but only suffer very minor problems in extremely rare cases. I am both dyslexic and have ADHD, so there is some insight to my thought habits. I have tried marijuana and recreationaly smoked it on occasion. I treat it similar to alcohol, but I have it much less frequent. I am however no novice when it comes to the experience. I know what its like to have a great high...it feels amazing. I had never had any kind of bad experience with weed before.

It naturally makes you think, "It's not THAT unhealthy and it makes me feel really good. How can anyone have a problem with this?" I already kinda knew the answer to that question, but what I experienced answered it in a more real and vivid way I couldn't even imagine before.

Some people can live with the negative effects of less severe drugs and have no real problem. What many people don't realize is that some people just can't handle that intense kind of stimulation. Not everyone's mind works the same, therefore, not everyone interprets experiences the same. Thus, not everyone thinks it feels good. All it takes is one. One bad experience to destroy all the good ones. I smoke weed every now and then. I've had some great highs...but then I had that one.

It was the most terrifying experience of my life. I was at a buddy's apartment. We decided to smoke...not uncommon. I took a rip out of a waterfall bong, and I took that largest single hit I have ever done. It was milky. I was coughing for a good 10 minutes...and thats all it took to get my brain rolling. I was coughing, which made it an effort to breathe. This probably made my subconscious brain remind me of my old asthma attacks as a little kid. It dug up memories of the discomfort in my respiratory system. I kept thinking about my breathing and started to freak out because I was scared of not being able to breathe without concentrating and making an effort. Now I don't need to tell you it's hard to concentrate when you're really baked. So I unwillingly, and unknowingly, drift in and out of alertness. Realizing that I can't keep track of my breathing when I'm not 100% aware...my brain then tells me to panic. Your bairn randomly fires related emotions when you are under the influence. All it takes is one strong negative thought and your brain won't be able to completely shake it. It will enhance it. At first I was half thinking to myself; "You're just getting sketched out for no reason. Just relax, sit back, and ride it out. Get the hell over it!" So I find a couch, sat down, and tried to fucking relax. "It's all in your head."

It doesn't work. When I am plateauing and alert, I can think that to myself okay...when I drift back out, my subconscious reminds me of that stress and worry. I can't control it enough to move on. It overwhelmed me with fear and anxiety, with truthfully no real cause. I was hit with an awful knot in my stomach and began to sweat heavily. I couldn't stop thinking about the bad shit. Then that human survival instinct everyone has started telling me "You need to get the fuck out of here." The other part of my brain is saying "No, stay. There's no reason to be like this. Just wait." So I decide to wait. For what seemed like half an hour, those two messages kept talking trying to shake me into some kind of awareness...but then I would drift off again, still all the while thinking, "You are in danger. You are going to get hurt."

I plateau one more time and I finally cave into the voice that's saying get out of there. I force myself up out of my seat thinking I can just walk home, I only live a few blocks away. My brain is still telling me about all the bad things that can happen...so now it starts thinking about all the bad shit that could happen to me walking. I can't stop these thoughts. I can't control or restrain them. I don't have complete control of my mind in a situation where I've convinced myself that I must have complete control to make it out of this okay. That's a sick fucking paradox if you ask me. And this is my own brain that's doing this to me. My own God damn brain!

I managed to convince one of my friends to drive me home. The brief car ride seemed like an eternity. I struggled back to my apartment and opened the boor to my bedroom. I cave in coming out of another plateau and sit down in my desk chair. I'm still haunted by this deep unknown fear. Drifting in and out of conscious thought, I try to collect my thoughts and assess the situation (i.e. thinking logically)...huge fucking mistake. I start thinking to myself, "I can't believe I feel like this. Why is this so different from before? Is my body and mind reacting to this differently because it's trying to tell me something? Alarming me of danger? Danger of harm...or death?" Just great. Now I start thinking my life is in serious jeopardy. "Is this what it feels like to die under drugs? Half of you is comforted by the soothing high...the other half is struggling and overwhelming you with more fear and terror then you have ever experienced before. And just like that, you are dead. Halfway in pain and extacy...no control or safety net to bring you back. No way to save you. Hopeless."

For a good hour, I stayed sitting in that chair. I was in a semi-conscious state of fear. I was shaking horribly, blinking rapidly, and sacred that I might die. I had no control at all, physically or mentally. I'm at the complete mercy of a chemical change in my head. How the fuck do you combat that? I'm almost completely incapacitated. After a while, I come to another plateau, thank fucking God this one gave me some control over my body. I forced myself up, and threw myself into bed (fully clothed).

I lay there still thinking about fear, pain, and death. I could not get off the thought of my own death...believe me, I fucking tried as hard as I could. I was struggling not to close my eyes because I feared it might be the last time. I thought, "What would happen to me if I died? What would happen to my friends? My family? My roommate? My possessions? Everything that I loved." Without even realizing it, I closed my eyes and passed out. Still under the spell...the trace. "You are going to die!"

...I woke up the next morning. Alright...but badly shaken. I tried to think what the hell happened to me the night before. It was overwhelming. The worst and most terrifying experience of my entire 20 year life. It gives me chills as I recall it and write it to you. That happened 5 weeks ago last Monday.

How did it happen? How could something like weed do that to me? Was it laced? It couldn't have been. I was smoking with 5 of my best friends. They are not into harder stuff...not even cloves. It was just normal bud. Everyone else that smoked it and didn't experience anything unusual...what the fuck happened to me? Something set off the alarm switch in my brain.

I wonder if it was affected by my mentality and thought process? I had smoked weed before. I've been baked before. I've been baked and drunk before. What caused me to be overtaken by such ominous and forbidding thoughts? Is it a control thing? I've felt the same lack of control before and was not bothered...this was because I had felt safe and secure before. I could jest let the ride take me where it may. However, this one time I didn't feel that security or safety. I felt in danger and that I need to get myself out of it by taking control. I couldn't get control, so I panicked.

Lets face it, I know I'm a control-type personalty. It's who I am. I need it. I feel uncomfortable when I lack it. More than I had even thought. I learned if I loose it to enough degree, at the most basic level of my own mind, I go into complete withdrawal inside my head and just give in and shut down to a degree. That night hit my biggest weakness.

Do you think I'm just weak willed? I just don't have the drive or willpower to overcome something when I really need to? I don't think so. I've taken on many obstacles in my life. Nothing has ever seemed so difficult or overwhelming than that one night. I've never felt that helpless with myself. It's just weed. You think I'm overacting here? You can tell yourself that, but I'm not convinced. The threat I felt was all too apparent to simply be overacting.

"It's not THAT unhealthy and it makes me feel really good. How can anyone have a problem with this?"

You keep on thinking that. I now have firsthand experience to see why it can be bad (and not by any choice of mine thank you very much). It put me at a level of discomfort that is not acceptable...to anyone.

You may like drugs, you may not, that is your choice. Keep in mind, however, that not everyone thinks, feels, and experiences things the same way as you. So, before you are critical of people that disagree with you on this sort of thing...remember, not everyone goes through the same shit.

What I have just told you is completely true. If you don't believe it, fine. I'm not here to recruit.


Opinions