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I was given some oxycodon.

newusername1

Established member
I recently was given some oxycodon because of a broken upper arm.

I decided to just bite through my pain for most of the recent days though, because of all the stories in the news.
But i was curious about it's recreational value, so i tried 25 mg last sunday. According to psychonautwiki this is a common recreational dose, and people say it's very simmilar to heroin.

It was nice, but not very special to be honest. Like cannabis without the psychedelic effects.
A warm, cozy, dreamy feeling.

I was also given some powder with sorbitol, sodium and potassium to help with indigestion, because the stuff paralyses your bowels.
But the next day i was still "laying bricks".

I can see how people can get addicted to this stuff, because it definately feels nice and it also feels like it isn't really mentally impairing, though it probably really is.

But man, if you're not in any pain...stay away from this stuff. I don't even find it worth the obstipation you get from it to be fair. Let alone ruining your life over it.
And if you are in serious pain, it's obviously still wise to be very carefull with it.
 
I recently was given some oxycodon because of a broken upper arm.

I decided to just bite through my pain for most of the recent days though, because of all the stories in the news.
But i was curious about it's recreational value, so i tried 25 mg last sunday. According to psychonautwiki this is a common recreational dose, and people say it's very simmilar to heroin.

It was nice, but not very special to be honest. Like cannabis without the psychedelic effects.
A warm, cozy, dreamy feeling.

I was also given some powder with sorbitol, sodium and potassium to help with indigestion, because the stuff paralyses your bowels.
But the next day i was still "laying bricks".

I can see how people can get addicted to this stuff, because it definately feels nice and it also feels like it isn't really mentally impairing, though it probably really is.

But man, if you're not in any pain...stay away from this stuff. I don't even find it worth the obstipation you get from it to be fair. Let alone ruining your life over it.
And if you are in serious pain, it's obviously still wise to be very carefull with it.
Out of all the hardcore drugs i think opiates are the most interesting. If you find the perfect dose for your weight height etc. It seems to adapt to your dna making your very functional in a state of bliss. Being able to still eat and sleep makes being a functional addict easier. It's not until you break that perfect dose when the problems come in. I've met some lifelong heroin addicts that possibly will die if ever go through withdrawals. Very sad but it's like they rather live to 50 with no emotional and physical pain than until 70 with pain.
 
Out of all the hardcore drugs i think opiates are the most interesting. If you find the perfect dose for your weight height etc. It seems to adapt to your dna making your very functional in a state of bliss. Being able to still eat and sleep makes being a functional addict easier. It's not until you break that perfect dose when the problems come in. I've met some lifelong heroin addicts that possibly will die if ever go through withdrawals. Very sad but it's like they rather live to 50 with no emotional and physical pain than until 70 with pain.
Mothers' milk contains proteins that specifically cleave to give opioid peptide fragments. Among other things, this eases the pain of teething and maybe of incarnation in general. My hypothesis, based on a certain amount of experience, is that this is where some of the lifelong enthusiasts may be coming from, or striving towards.

Another observation is that some viral infections downregulate my own body's endogenous opioid production. This raises the question of whether infectious agents may have played a role in certain individuals' paths into self-administration of exogenous opioids.
 
In my experience lot of people believe that opioids are some excellent, perfect, euphoric experience and are surprised with first encounters with these substances. It is often quite uninteresting, people even express disbelief that it was really it. When I tried heroin for the first time I was definitely in this group, I was surprised how boring and uninteresting it is.

Only small group of people are satisfied and thrilled from the very beginning. Some people seems to be predisposed to opioids.
 
In my experience lot of people believe that opioids are some excellent, perfect, euphoric experience and are surprised with first encounters with these substances. It is often quite uninteresting, people even express disbelief that it was really it. When I tried heroin for the first time I was definitely in this group, I was surprised how boring and uninteresting it is.

Only small group of people are satisfied and thrilled from the very beginning. Some people seems to be predisposed to opioids.
Definitely the lifestyle is super boring. It amazed me how some can throw away their life just to nod out for hours. Then wake up chase money just to nod out for the rest of the day. I loved being able to disconnect from all emotions and let the brain take a break. But the feeling of being sick is way worse than the euphoria if you were to tally the pros and cons.
 
Mothers' milk contains proteins that specifically cleave to give opioid peptide fragments. Among other things, this eases the pain of teething and maybe of incarnation in general. My hypothesis, based on a certain amount of experience, is that this is where some of the lifelong enthusiasts may be coming from, or striving towards.

Another observation is that some viral infections downregulate my own body's endogenous opioid production. This raises the question of whether infectious agents may have played a role in certain individuals' paths into self-administration of exogenous opioids.
That's very interesting ima have to look into that. I briefly messed around and my body and organs took time to feel normal. I believe what most addicts won't admit is once you've went to the needle you never really feel the same again. So If I felt like that only doing it a few months I couldn't imagine years of injecting poison. So that's my opinion on why most can never beat the addiction. You can give them a million dollars and the life they dreamed of sober but if the physical and dopamine are ruined...what's the point I guess.
 
First and only time I did H was in the late 90s. I scored it from a platinum blonde crack-whore wearing a mini-skirt on a dark, orange-lit street in Willamsburgh, Brooklyn. She had a thick Jewish accent (like Fran Drescher from the TV show The Nanny), fluffy 80s-style hair, and enough eyeshadow to scare an owl.

She took us down the shadowy streets to an apartment house where you could fuck and get drugs. She had us wait outside, and after 10 minutes, my buddy and I kinda looked at each other and wondered if we'd been had by a trick. But no trick she was – our lady showed up 15 minutes later with apologies and the goods: 2 baggies of the brown stuff.

After snorting two lines, I felt "normal." All of my inherent anxieties and all the emotional baggage I carried around as a teenager simply ceased to exist. Had I stopped here, I might have been hooked. But my buddy insisted I finish the bag (his usual dose and the only cure for his unrelenting sinusitis).

I spent the rest of the night in the fetal position on my guy's sofa, my psyche floating in a colorless, void space, unable to go to sleep. Moving out of the fetal position made me fee nauseous and dizzy. The most interesting part of the trip was that despite my physical discomfort, I couldn't help but to snort the rest of my friend's baggie, which he hadn't finished because he was trying to "cut back."

The next morning, I blew chunks after I caught a whiff of the cup of coffee my friend handed me. It was the first time I'd barfed since I was a little kid. I remember being pissed that my 12-year no-puke record had been broken... Going home on the subway and then the bus, I felt like Pete Venkman after being slimed on his first job.

I vowed never to touch the stuff again.
 
One of the seductive things about opiates is indeed the ability to get pretty high and still be quite functional, more so actually.
Same with cigarettes. The ease in making it part of your normal life is going to add to addictiveness for sure.
 
How did you meet her?
My friend had an apartment in Williamsburgh, back when it was quite sketchy, full of drugs and thugs with guns. All we had to do was take a walk down his block and around the corner.

It was "Old" New York – Taxi Driver New York.

Some guy got stabbed in front of his door one night. He opened the door to see what was going on and his neighbors let him know that it was not in his "best interests" to call the cops. When I got there to hang out the next day, there was still blood on the floor and walls – looked like the aftermath of that scene in Serpico where Pachino gets shot.

New York in the 90s was no joke.
 
I recently was given some oxycodon because of a broken upper arm.

I decided to just bite through my pain for most of the recent days though, because of all the stories in the news.
But i was curious about it's recreational value, so i tried 25 mg last sunday. According to psychonautwiki this is a common recreational dose, and people say it's very simmilar to heroin.

It was nice, but not very special to be honest. Like cannabis without the psychedelic effects.
A warm, cozy, dreamy feeling.

I was also given some powder with sorbitol, sodium and potassium to help with indigestion, because the stuff paralyses your bowels.
But the next day i was still "laying bricks".

I can see how people can get addicted to this stuff, because it definately feels nice and it also feels like it isn't really mentally impairing, though it probably really is.

But man, if you're not in any pain...stay away from this stuff. I don't even find it worth the obstipation you get from it to be fair. Let alone ruining your life over it.
And if you are in serious pain, it's obviously still wise to be very carefull with it.
This is a long reply that might upset those sensitive to substance abuse discussion but I'd like to share MY experience with opiates so that others might learn from it whether they be active, considering, or unfamiliar with opiate addiction.
-_-----------------_-

Stay far far away friend. The golden eyes girl will steal your soul and leave you crying for more.

Nikki six compared heroin to "the hug your mother never gave you and the slap your father always did"(paraphrased)

My addiction started simple. I was living a nightmare, I just wanted out, I just wanted to be "comfortably numb" I had always said I didn't want to die but I didn't want to live how I was. Opiates were that liminal space for me. The gentle warmth and comfort I couldn't find anywhere else. Eventually they became the only comfort I could find at all and when I couldn't find them it was like I was dragging my soul through miles of broken hot glass.

I can't recall how I started. But I recall knowing when it took off beyond my control. I had dental work done and was left alone with a bottle of hydrocodone after a traumatic extraction. One tablet left me hurting but I found 2 tablets left me feeling... I can't describe it. But I knew I didn't want to feel any other way ever again. I was about 16. I walked around with a glass vial with 6 tablets in it. Soon I was buying literally handfuls of prescription opiates from friends. We had ourselves a system, one would bring liquor, one would bring weed, someone else would bring pills, and another coke. We're parse out the substances even across the group before glass. Soon I found I needed more and more pills. a friend had passed away and I went on a chemical rampage. I couldn't face the sun. Just a simple breeze would send me into hysterics. I just wanted to stay high and die in peace. Eventually I realized this was no way to be. At this point fentanyl was starting to hit the area pretty hard so I buckled down and kicked the crap. I went on to experience ~8 years off of the opiates opting for stuff like LSD,MDMA, and mushrooms (and a LOT of therapy)

My recovery ended when I was given a pretty jarring diagnosis while I was homeless. Again, it felt like the end of the world. I was told I had a brain cyst and it was causing seizures, migraines, and intense headaches that we now know are cluster headaches. Within a month of the symptoms starting I was considering running my car into a wall as fast as I could. The agony was horrific. Getting shot was nothing compared to the intensity of the pain the headaches caused. A friend told me "I've got oxycontin" having been a seasoned opiate addict I immediately called the bullshit. "What is this I know it's not legit oxy" he warned me to be careful but he didn't want to see me commit suicide over something the doctors could but wouldn't consider pain management for. One pill lasted me a week.. then it slowly became one a day. Then it was one every hour or two until it was 2 every hour or two until I was smoking upwards of 20+ tablets a day. I had a medical card at the time but I couldn't function on as much cannabis as I had to use to reduce the agony. Not nearly as well as I was functioning on the fentanyl barring the occasional nods. I started to overdose. It was like a cascade of brushes with death. Once the overdoses started I kept getting them. It seemed like no amount of fentanyl would set me straight and sometimes it felt like the door was actually making me dope sick. I started to lose faith and trust in the pills. It was like I'd be sick, use, get even sicker, use, OD. I crawled into a methadone clinic begging for help. I weighed 160 pounds with 3 layers of clothes on (my average body weight being 220lb) they assured me I could recover. I didn't believe them but I knew something had to give. I'd rather die under a doctors care than trying to help my self all alone. They told me I was allowed to up my dosage every few days until I stabilized and didn't need the fentanyl anymore.. I got to 125mg daily. Some days it wasn't enough but usually it was just enough to keep me from searching. I called my family 3x a day. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. "Good morning mom, I'm still alive" "mom I'm sorry for (what ever terrible things I had done or was doing)" "Mom, I made it one more day" and repeat. I didn't hide this relapse. I knew I was going to die and I didn't want to leave my family without saying goodbye. The doctor wanted me on the methadone for a year. By month six I was willfully skipping doses. Pushing myself to the edge of withdrawals before getting my next dose. Dropping my dose against my doctors suggestions. They kept telling me I could have a serious relapse but deep down I was over all of it. The fentanyl. The methadone. Everything. I was ready whether they wanted to believe me or not. I got arrested for some petty charge trying to take care of some basic needs I couldn't get with paper money. I was told it was 6 months incarceration or 6 months rehab. I tell people I was being dumb but I had been toeing the line for some time, trying to get arrested, trying to make someone FORCE me to go inpatient. This was it. So I called my family and told them I was ready to go to rehab.i left the state with a single days dosage of methadone. We traveled 3 days and nights pretty much non stop. I would take 10-20mg just to keep my body from shutting down on me. My second day in my new area I woke up sicker than ever, I crawled into the shower and just layed there crying in agony. My wife came into the bathroom methadone and spoon in hand trying to get me to take it. I fought with all my might softly swatting the spoon away until she said "I'm sorry NH but I have to do this" and she forced me to take a little bit. I layed there as the water went cold slowly feeling the misery subside. I don't resent her forcing me to take it but deep down I was so heartbroken that this is what it came to. What had I become that I couldn't even successfully fight off the poison killing me anymore. Suddenly I understood the doctors warnings. A few days later I checked into a hardcore 6 month program. I wasn't even allowed to have Imodium (but my caretakers could tell I was sicker than they were use too so they turned a blind eye) I kicked the fentanyl and methadone pretty much cold and it took almost 7 weeks before my body quit screaming in horror. They made me work every. Single.day. like a damn slave while I withdrew. I have mixed feelings about the organization but I'll say that today is day ~1532 opiate free. It all feels like a terrible fever dream. Like it never happened. A nightmare I was never meant to escape but I did.

If you feel like you're slipping into opiate addiction SCREAM for help beg, plead, make a scene if you must. But do not fall for the lul. That sweet and gentle disposition that fools us into one of the most horrifying conditions a man or woman can endure. I've watched my friends die hopeless to help, I've seen them incarcerated for decades, and literally LOST good friends I may never see or hear from again because of this poison.. what scares me the most is knowing all it takes is one bad day and I'm back in the nightmare. Knowing just how that substance makes me feel. These days I speak up. I tell someone, everyone, "I'm struggling really bad right now and all I want is to go back" even though I know what that entails. I've quit counting days, months, and years. I know my day was May 18th 2021 and I check my balance occasionally via Google inquiry.

Don't go that way friend, it's a dead end.

<3 NeitherHere
 
This is a long reply that might upset those sensitive to substance abuse discussion but I'd like to share MY experience with opiates so that others might learn from it whether they be active, considering, or unfamiliar with opiate addiction.
-_-----------------_-

Stay far far away friend. The golden eyes girl will steal your soul and leave you crying for more.

Nikki six compared heroin to "the hug your mother never gave you and the slap your father always did"(paraphrased)

My addiction started simple. I was living a nightmare, I just wanted out, I just wanted to be "comfortably numb" I had always said I didn't want to die but I didn't want to live how I was. Opiates were that liminal space for me. The gentle warmth and comfort I couldn't find anywhere else. Eventually they became the only comfort I could find at all and when I couldn't find them it was like I was dragging my soul through miles of broken hot glass.

I can't recall how I started. But I recall knowing when it took off beyond my control. I had dental work done and was left alone with a bottle of hydrocodone after a traumatic extraction. One tablet left me hurting but I found 2 tablets left me feeling... I can't describe it. But I knew I didn't want to feel any other way ever again. I was about 16. I walked around with a glass vial with 6 tablets in it. Soon I was buying literally handfuls of prescription opiates from friends. We had ourselves a system, one would bring liquor, one would bring weed, someone else would bring pills, and another coke. We're parse out the substances even across the group before glass. Soon I found I needed more and more pills. a friend had passed away and I went on a chemical rampage. I couldn't face the sun. Just a simple breeze would send me into hysterics. I just wanted to stay high and die in peace. Eventually I realized this was no way to be. At this point fentanyl was starting to hit the area pretty hard so I buckled down and kicked the crap. I went on to experience ~8 years off of the opiates opting for stuff like LSD,MDMA, and mushrooms (and a LOT of therapy)

My recovery ended when I was given a pretty jarring diagnosis while I was homeless. Again, it felt like the end of the world. I was told I had a brain cyst and it was causing seizures, migraines, and intense headaches that we now know are cluster headaches. Within a month of the symptoms starting I was considering running my car into a wall as fast as I could. The agony was horrific. Getting shot was nothing compared to the intensity of the pain the headaches caused. A friend told me "I've got oxycontin" having been a seasoned opiate addict I immediately called the bullshit. "What is this I know it's not legit oxy" he warned me to be careful but he didn't want to see me commit suicide over something the doctors could but wouldn't consider pain management for. One pill lasted me a week.. then it slowly became one a day. Then it was one every hour or two until it was 2 every hour or two until I was smoking upwards of 20+ tablets a day. I had a medical card at the time but I couldn't function on as much cannabis as I had to use to reduce the agony. Not nearly as well as I was functioning on the fentanyl barring the occasional nods. I started to overdose. It was like a cascade of brushes with death. Once the overdoses started I kept getting them. It seemed like no amount of fentanyl would set me straight and sometimes it felt like the door was actually making me dope sick. I started to lose faith and trust in the pills. It was like I'd be sick, use, get even sicker, use, OD. I crawled into a methadone clinic begging for help. I weighed 160 pounds with 3 layers of clothes on (my average body weight being 220lb) they assured me I could recover. I didn't believe them but I knew something had to give. I'd rather die under a doctors care than trying to help my self all alone. They told me I was allowed to up my dosage every few days until I stabilized and didn't need the fentanyl anymore.. I got to 125mg daily. Some days it wasn't enough but usually it was just enough to keep me from searching. I called my family 3x a day. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. "Good morning mom, I'm still alive" "mom I'm sorry for (what ever terrible things I had done or was doing)" "Mom, I made it one more day" and repeat. I didn't hide this relapse. I knew I was going to die and I didn't want to leave my family without saying goodbye. The doctor wanted me on the methadone for a year. By month six I was willfully skipping doses. Pushing myself to the edge of withdrawals before getting my next dose. Dropping my dose against my doctors suggestions. They kept telling me I could have a serious relapse but deep down I was over all of it. The fentanyl. The methadone. Everything. I was ready whether they wanted to believe me or not. I got arrested for some petty charge trying to take care of some basic needs I couldn't get with paper money. I was told it was 6 months incarceration or 6 months rehab. I tell people I was being dumb but I had been toeing the line for some time, trying to get arrested, trying to make someone FORCE me to go inpatient. This was it. So I called my family and told them I was ready to go to rehab.i left the state with a single days dosage of methadone. We traveled 3 days and nights pretty much non stop. I would take 10-20mg just to keep my body from shutting down on me. My second day in my new area I woke up sicker than ever, I crawled into the shower and just layed there crying in agony. My wife came into the bathroom methadone and spoon in hand trying to get me to take it. I fought with all my might softly swatting the spoon away until she said "I'm sorry NH but I have to do this" and she forced me to take a little bit. I layed there as the water went cold slowly feeling the misery subside. I don't resent her forcing me to take it but deep down I was so heartbroken that this is what it came to. What had I become that I couldn't even successfully fight off the poison killing me anymore. Suddenly I understood the doctors warnings. A few days later I checked into a hardcore 6 month program. I wasn't even allowed to have Imodium (but my caretakers could tell I was sicker than they were use too so they turned a blind eye) I kicked the fentanyl and methadone pretty much cold and it took almost 7 weeks before my body quit screaming in horror. They made me work every. Single.day. like a damn slave while I withdrew. I have mixed feelings about the organization but I'll say that today is day ~1532 opiate free. It all feels like a terrible fever dream. Like it never happened. A nightmare I was never meant to escape but I did.

If you feel like you're slipping into opiate addiction SCREAM for help beg, plead, make a scene if you must. But do not fall for the lul. That sweet and gentle disposition that fools us into one of the most horrifying conditions a man or woman can endure. I've watched my friends die hopeless to help, I've seen them incarcerated for decades, and literally LOST good friends I may never see or hear from again because of this poison.. what scares me the most is knowing all it takes is one bad day and I'm back in the nightmare. Knowing just how that substance makes me feel. These days I speak up. I tell someone, everyone, "I'm struggling really bad right now and all I want is to go back" even though I know what that entails. I've quit counting days, months, and years. I know my day was May 18th 2021 and I check my balance occasionally via Google inquiry.

Don't go that way friend, it's a dead end.

<3 NeitherHere
Ps. I still can't smell popcorn or burning rubber without immediately freaking the hell out because for what ever reason that's what my brain relates to the smell of burning fentanyl. Thankfully, I'm not a fan of either 😅
 
This is a long reply that might upset those sensitive to substance abuse discussion but I'd like to share MY experience with opiates so that others might learn from it whether they be active, considering, or unfamiliar with opiate addiction.
-_-----------------_-

Stay far far away friend. The golden eyes girl will steal your soul and leave you crying for more.

Nikki six compared heroin to "the hug your mother never gave you and the slap your father always did"(paraphrased)

My addiction started simple. I was living a nightmare, I just wanted out, I just wanted to be "comfortably numb" I had always said I didn't want to die but I didn't want to live how I was. Opiates were that liminal space for me. The gentle warmth and comfort I couldn't find anywhere else. Eventually they became the only comfort I could find at all and when I couldn't find them it was like I was dragging my soul through miles of broken hot glass.

I can't recall how I started. But I recall knowing when it took off beyond my control. I had dental work done and was left alone with a bottle of hydrocodone after a traumatic extraction. One tablet left me hurting but I found 2 tablets left me feeling... I can't describe it. But I knew I didn't want to feel any other way ever again. I was about 16. I walked around with a glass vial with 6 tablets in it. Soon I was buying literally handfuls of prescription opiates from friends. We had ourselves a system, one would bring liquor, one would bring weed, someone else would bring pills, and another coke. We're parse out the substances even across the group before glass. Soon I found I needed more and more pills. a friend had passed away and I went on a chemical rampage. I couldn't face the sun. Just a simple breeze would send me into hysterics. I just wanted to stay high and die in peace. Eventually I realized this was no way to be. At this point fentanyl was starting to hit the area pretty hard so I buckled down and kicked the crap. I went on to experience ~8 years off of the opiates opting for stuff like LSD,MDMA, and mushrooms (and a LOT of therapy)

My recovery ended when I was given a pretty jarring diagnosis while I was homeless. Again, it felt like the end of the world. I was told I had a brain cyst and it was causing seizures, migraines, and intense headaches that we now know are cluster headaches. Within a month of the symptoms starting I was considering running my car into a wall as fast as I could. The agony was horrific. Getting shot was nothing compared to the intensity of the pain the headaches caused. A friend told me "I've got oxycontin" having been a seasoned opiate addict I immediately called the bullshit. "What is this I know it's not legit oxy" he warned me to be careful but he didn't want to see me commit suicide over something the doctors could but wouldn't consider pain management for. One pill lasted me a week.. then it slowly became one a day. Then it was one every hour or two until it was 2 every hour or two until I was smoking upwards of 20+ tablets a day. I had a medical card at the time but I couldn't function on as much cannabis as I had to use to reduce the agony. Not nearly as well as I was functioning on the fentanyl barring the occasional nods. I started to overdose. It was like a cascade of brushes with death. Once the overdoses started I kept getting them. It seemed like no amount of fentanyl would set me straight and sometimes it felt like the door was actually making me dope sick. I started to lose faith and trust in the pills. It was like I'd be sick, use, get even sicker, use, OD. I crawled into a methadone clinic begging for help. I weighed 160 pounds with 3 layers of clothes on (my average body weight being 220lb) they assured me I could recover. I didn't believe them but I knew something had to give. I'd rather die under a doctors care than trying to help my self all alone. They told me I was allowed to up my dosage every few days until I stabilized and didn't need the fentanyl anymore.. I got to 125mg daily. Some days it wasn't enough but usually it was just enough to keep me from searching. I called my family 3x a day. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. "Good morning mom, I'm still alive" "mom I'm sorry for (what ever terrible things I had done or was doing)" "Mom, I made it one more day" and repeat. I didn't hide this relapse. I knew I was going to die and I didn't want to leave my family without saying goodbye. The doctor wanted me on the methadone for a year. By month six I was willfully skipping doses. Pushing myself to the edge of withdrawals before getting my next dose. Dropping my dose against my doctors suggestions. They kept telling me I could have a serious relapse but deep down I was over all of it. The fentanyl. The methadone. Everything. I was ready whether they wanted to believe me or not. I got arrested for some petty charge trying to take care of some basic needs I couldn't get with paper money. I was told it was 6 months incarceration or 6 months rehab. I tell people I was being dumb but I had been toeing the line for some time, trying to get arrested, trying to make someone FORCE me to go inpatient. This was it. So I called my family and told them I was ready to go to rehab.i left the state with a single days dosage of methadone. We traveled 3 days and nights pretty much non stop. I would take 10-20mg just to keep my body from shutting down on me. My second day in my new area I woke up sicker than ever, I crawled into the shower and just layed there crying in agony. My wife came into the bathroom methadone and spoon in hand trying to get me to take it. I fought with all my might softly swatting the spoon away until she said "I'm sorry NH but I have to do this" and she forced me to take a little bit. I layed there as the water went cold slowly feeling the misery subside. I don't resent her forcing me to take it but deep down I was so heartbroken that this is what it came to. What had I become that I couldn't even successfully fight off the poison killing me anymore. Suddenly I understood the doctors warnings. A few days later I checked into a hardcore 6 month program. I wasn't even allowed to have Imodium (but my caretakers could tell I was sicker than they were use too so they turned a blind eye) I kicked the fentanyl and methadone pretty much cold and it took almost 7 weeks before my body quit screaming in horror. They made me work every. Single.day. like a damn slave while I withdrew. I have mixed feelings about the organization but I'll say that today is day ~1532 opiate free. It all feels like a terrible fever dream. Like it never happened. A nightmare I was never meant to escape but I did.

If you feel like you're slipping into opiate addiction SCREAM for help beg, plead, make a scene if you must. But do not fall for the lul. That sweet and gentle disposition that fools us into one of the most horrifying conditions a man or woman can endure. I've watched my friends die hopeless to help, I've seen them incarcerated for decades, and literally LOST good friends I may never see or hear from again because of this poison.. what scares me the most is knowing all it takes is one bad day and I'm back in the nightmare. Knowing just how that substance makes me feel. These days I speak up. I tell someone, everyone, "I'm struggling really bad right now and all I want is to go back" even though I know what that entails. I've quit counting days, months, and years. I know my day was May 18th 2021 and I check my balance occasionally via Google inquiry.

Don't go that way friend, it's a dead end.

<3 NeitherHere
That is a heartbreaking story my friend.
I know that feeling of yearning to "disappear". I think way too many people do, unfortunately.

It's really great that you managed to survive and to get out of that life.
 
These days you might as well just use 7-hydroxymitragynine, mitragynine pseudoindoxyl, or speciociliatine (kratom chemicals).
I'd be wary about recommending kratom to people when coming from no opiate habit. At least when doing so give them a strong warning like any other chemical which has abuse potential warrants like the oxycodon the OP acquired. Kratom doesn't have the same tendency to cause opioid-induced respiratory depression and thus doesn't get the loud negative optics that come with overdose deaths. It is an opiate and has abuse / dependency potential. I don't think kratom is bad or evil, nor any chemical for that matter, but depending on that persons physiology, and their life circumstances, it could be a recipe for an addiction in itself or a gateway from it to stronger opiates. I could see it being used in the opposite direction to get people off a stronger opiate to minimize the withdrawal symptoms. I have only heard that in passing and can't speak on it at all though.

My story with kratom was when my mom passed I got drinking beer and hard alcohol more and more frequently without really noticing as an unhealthy way of coping. I get wicked hangovers from alcohol though, so got to where I'd drink four times a week at night and be miserably hung over for the other three days until midday to sometimes late afternoon. I never understood the folks who could drink more while in a hang over. Didn't want to do anymore every time I'd lose a day to a miserable hangover but also found myself in a cycle where I just kept buying more alcohol. Every grocery store here carries beer and wine and has a liquor store in the parking lot which I always found myself down that aisle. That lasted through the first year of COVID since I really had nothing else healthy to get out of the house to do nor socialize to break out of that cycle.

I tried kratom due to a friend saying how much it was helping him. He used it in the low does for the stimulant effects and it helped him with depression and energy levels. I didn't really get the low dose effect benefits like my friend but did feel the higher dose opiate effects. At the beginning I’d take a couple grams and it'd have strong effects. Then I'd eventually dose it couple times a day. Then tolerance sets in quick and your at three grams each dose then you add another dose per day.

I did end up quitting alcohol successfully by replacing with kratom. The stereotypical trade one addiction for another though kratom in my eyes was better at the time as I wasn't losing half my week to hangovers and had minimal negative side effects besides it plugging you up. At least minimal in the beginning. Being a morning coffee drinker I found it nullified that primary negative. I used kratom for the next couple years.

When I finally decided to quit, my first dose of the day was usually 15g then would take 10g redoses several times per day. Got to where really no matter how much kratom I took I didn't have a felt effect from it. You hit the point you try to take more to get any felt affect, its too much for the body to process, and it makes you throw up. So your doing the same exercise as any other eventual daily opiate user where you take it just to avoid the withdrawal.

Mentally I felt like I'd probably just do it forever. Thought about quitting each time I went to buy more and told myself more than a few times the next batch I bought would be the batch I quit. Just like alcohol I observed the pointless cycle I was in, yet kept it going long after I knew it overstayed its welcome. Another false justification of it not being a problem is that you can hide it successfully from everyone, work full time while performing great, and nobody close to you notices any large difference physically or behaviorally. I was tethered to it though, all while hiding it from everyone. Since I was hiding it I couldn't travel with family or friends if it meant going out of state or shared lodging for extended periods without somehow maintaining the dirty secret. Having people stay at my house was the same juggling act. If I had to do an all day event I'd figure out some way to accomplish my typical redose(s) while not at home but also in secret.

One of the worrying physical side effects arose after a year in or so and was that it made me have to pee often during the day and even worse at night. I'd wake up four times a night wide awake and I'd just lay there awake until I urinated. I'd get myself out of bed to pee for a few seconds with nothing of any quantity came out to justify the body waking me up nor getting my ass out of bed. I assumed and worried that'd be a permanent side effect assuming I screwed up my bladder.

Not sure what actually kicked my ass this particular week but started a taper where I reduced 10% first day, 10% the next, and did that four days in a row then quit cold turkey. When you look up taper protocols people usually slowly taper over several weeks to a month. With how much I was taking I didn't think I'd actually quit with a month long taper. Figured I'd probably not thoroughly track doses everyday and wind up dosing more times and nullify the taper. Last day I dosed was the Friday I started the four day taper.

By midday that Saturday I had felt withdrawal symptoms. Sense of taste and smell was off, food was putrid, and going out for a walk the air had an off putting scent everywhere I went. I'd get too cold and cover up with a blanket then shortly after be too hot. General discomfort in my body resulting in tossing and turning. One side effect I didn't hate was I got rolling goosebumps like you get when music or an emotional story hits you to the core. Those goosebumps could start at the feet and go up the leg and stop, start at the head and go down the back, start at the head and go down both arms and both feet, or any potential combination. This I actually enjoyed in the midst of all the other side effects. I didn't really have desire to eat much for five days straight. Worst side effect was that all night when I tried to sleep the hot cold cycle kept me from sleeping. I slept about five hours from that Saturday when I woke up until the next Friday when I crashed six days later. I laid in bed each night with no light and no sound trying to sleep for nine to twelve hours and only had a couple hour long spurts in every other night where I knew I slept from having a dream. I tried sleep aids which had no effect. I tried a couple strong indica strains to help with sleep which I know have that effect on me and those also didn't really have much effect at all.

For about ten to twelve weeks after the withdrawal ended my sleep cycle was a wreck and abnormal from what it usually is. I continued to have no felt effect from sleep aids such as melatonin or benedryl during this period as well as an insensitivity to other substances such as THC. Benedryl historically made me drowsy the next day and would at least make me feel sleepy a few hours after taking. This sleep cycle change and insensitivity to sleep aids, was rough since I worked full time through quitting. I believe my body was in shock from the lack of the dopamine and serotonin cycle the kratom caused my brain to produce and was forced to normalize a routine without. Thankfully the kratom bladder side effect went away entirely after a couple weeks. I can't say I did no damage without doing some testing with a doctor which I intend to discuss during my next annual.

My withdrawal experience, I can only assume, was mild in comparison to harder street drugs common today but, again I assume, stronger and longer duration than a mild short term kratom user. The other irony was once I quit I've not had any recurring nor intrusive urges to take kratom. One of the reasons why when I was using kratom that'd I'd assumed I'd do it forever was the thought of breaking the cycle, the withdrawal, and then the assumed perpetual intrusive urges.

Kratom didn't destroy my life, put me on the streets, or chew through my savings though I do feel lucky to not have considered nor escalated to stronger opiates and to not have any urges to return after quitting. Figured I'd share. My friend used it responsibly for a long time with great benefit to him.
 
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