Prologue Part Two

April 11, 2011

As promised, what follows is the drug use history that lead me to this place. I want to get this information out because it might be important to someone else, but it’s the part of this process I am the least interested in writing about because I have to describe a person that I really don’t like very much. As I warned in Part One, if you know me, I would consider it a personal favor if you do not read this, because it will suck for you. There is nothing new in here, but there are details you don’t want to know, and I don’t want to think about you knowing. So if you read on, I won’t expect to ever hear about anything you discovered in the paragraphs that follow, MK?

Come and knock on my door indeed...

My drug biography looks pretty much like this: a romance with cocaine and alcohol that has lasted my entire adult life (going on 15, years), and a (relatively) recent opiate dependency that brought the whole thing down like a house of cards. Two was company, and three was a crowd (I know, I’m basking in the cleverness of the photo and caption above). With the exception of a small dalliance with heroin years ago, opiates were new to me. But they are a whole different kind of trip because with my consumption habits it didn’t take long for physical dependence to set in, and before you know it, I was in a real bind. Anyone who says otherwise has never experienced withdrawal (in the next few days, I intend to discuss withdrawal at length). Throw in a surgery in the summer of 2010, major depression, a career and a marriage that was coming unravelled and I had all the excuse I needed to buy into the opiate program with alacrity. To the tune of 250 milligrams of hydrocodone or 200 (give or take) milligrams of oxycodone a day.  In case there is anyone left out there fooling yourself, a 30 milligram “roxy” (oxycodone) tablet is heroin by a different name and chemical structure, but identical in effect. To review, up until a few weeks ago, I was eating the equivalent of 20 to 30 tablets a day of the 10 milligram hydrocodone, or 15, give or take, of the 10 milligram oxycodone. I never really could tell an appreciable difference between the two, except that the 30 milligram roxy’s seemed to work faster than anything else.  

The cocaine and alcohol continued apace. Those two probably would have not brought me to rock bottom as quickly as the opiates did, but over the last year I averaged roughly a gram of blow a day, and probably somewhere between six and ten drinks, with binges of both that would well exceed the numbers I have here. And I was always mixing the three: they go together like peanut butter and jelly and…jelly. After 15 years of cocaine use, I got creative with the route of administration. I never really liked smoking it, but I did have periods where I went IV, largely because it was easier to control the dose (it left the system sooner), and was by far the best trip of anything I have ever done. IV use of cocaine could get its own post because it absolutely destroys the body (the high only lasts for about a minute; that’s a lot of pin-pricks), but also because it is the most incredible high there is. I would walk through the wall in front of me to get to cocaine if that were going to be the route of administration. Cocaine definitely felt like the most evil thing I have ever done. There is no doubt with cocaine: it crosses the blood-brain barrier and you say to yourself, “…yup, that right there is some evil shit. And I’ll have another…” It turns me into a shell of a person while I am on it. Opiates are much more insidious and subtle. I would never try to work high on cocaine, but on opiates, boy howdy, could I! I would try anyway.

There were other substances that made an appearance in my life. Moderate marijuana use is more or less a constant. Ecstasy was a big part of my college years. And I toyed with all manner of benzos and tranquilizers to help create a soft place to land from the coke. But for the most part the three-headed hydra is comprised of cocaine, alcohol and opiate synthetics. Those are the demons we are exorcising. As noted before, it’s the alcohol that scares everyone. This subject will of necessity come up again, but I hope to always give an unvarnished account of what my life was like on these drugs. There was nothing romantic about it. As the artwork and tagline of my blog suggest, I have been walking through hell.

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