it seems like you couldn't even point at pharmacologic consequences but mechanical reasonsI have always found it pretty twisted that so many of the drug trials done on animals use just absolutely disgusting levels of dosage, which doesn't even remotely replicate any sort of situation any normal human would find themselves in. What makes it twisted is, what does it even show or achieve, if it's just injecting 50 times the recreational dose directly into the brain? That's just animal abuse...
Thank you! I forgot about black seed oil. I have plenty lying around that I can give them to use. That stuff made me ragey when I stopped taking it after just a few days tbh. Very much out of character.I'd just say "ride it out", especially if it hasn't been more than a month or so of use. People swear by black seed oil, I cannot say I've ever tried it since I can't find it locally.
That's not bad. It shouldn't be very drawn out in that case.They've been on opioids for two and a half months now, morphine for the last month.
How is 4-FMA? I'm curious. 4-fluoromethcathinone was nice, 4-FA was ok, too, so I would like to try the methamphetamine and compare.Well I've had an eventful month or so. Was seeing someone but we broke things off and that's been really tough, I moved in with one of my long time best friends. Been here abouut a week now and so far its been great. WAY better than my last place. We did 4-FMA for like 3 Days straight when I moved in to celebrate and unpack and everything, it was a lot of fun. I'm also about to start a new job cooking at the Zoo.
However, before I moved I had a crazy experience I do not wish to repeat. So this is the scene: I'm at my old place with 2 roomies who I dont care for much, a lot of anxiety in the air. I have a lot of anxiety about moving and the breakup and stress at work, gender identity issues. All of this anxiety is bubbling for a few weeks and I go on a week long dissociative bender. My last dissociative use at the old place I did 3-CL-PCP through the day, then later at night 3-Ho-PCP. Not sure how much I did, but it must have been a lot because I more or less blacked out and I caused my old roomie enough concern to call 911. I remember sitting in the living room with a police officer over me and a couple other strangers. Then I black out. Then in my hallucinations I'm in a homeless shelter in Portland and a bunch of vagrants are on top of me holding me down and I cant breathe. I'm yelling at them to stop getting on top of me because they're killing me and I'm suffocating. In my hallucinations I die, smothered to death by 4 or 5 homeless people. Next thing I know I come to in the hospital, shackled to the bed. They said I was combative. Sit there for what feels like hours until I sober up enough to be discharged. I have basically no clothes so I have to wear to hospital gown and a pair of sweats that a RN got me on the bus ride home, and once off the bus had to walk 2 miles in the hospital gown and slippers, in the snow, until I finally got home.
Since then, I realize that the "homeless" people who were smothering me were cops and EMTs. I came too incredibly sore. Like every muscle in my body was in agonizing pain from fighting for my life. Had a huge scratch down my eye and across my face, bruises all up and down each arm and leg. Like the bottom half of each 4 of my appendages were purple for about 2 weeks. My right ankle is still swollen and bruised. I honestly think the cops may have fractured it because it's been like 3 weeks and its still swollen and bruised as all hell.
It was a very traumatic experience, obviously. But, at the very least, it's got me rethinking my relationship with dissociatives. I've always gone balls to the wall with dissos, but since then I've had 2 dissociative experiences and have kept them at low doses and kept the rest locked up in my time lock safe. I don't ever want to get into a situation like that, ever, ever again.
So yeah, that's where I've been. In the process of moving and changing jobs so I haven't been on much.
One of my managers at my current job said said something to me about the trans community that made me very uncomfortable, so that was the nail in the coffin there. I'm switching jobs. That place is no longer a safe space for me. My partner was a trans woman, I've been struggling with gender identity issues for years and have been considering transitioning as of late, so I'm not going to work in that workplace anymore. I'm gonna go cook food at the Zoo for Kids and Families to enjoy while looking at elephants and monkeys and lions and shit
Well I've had an eventful month or so. Was seeing someone but we broke things off and that's been really tough, I moved in with one of my long time best friends. Been here abouut a week now and so far its been great. WAY better than my last place. We did 4-FMA for like 3 Days straight when I moved in to celebrate and unpack and everything, it was a lot of fun. I'm also about to start a new job cooking at the Zoo.
However, before I moved I had a crazy experience I do not wish to repeat. So this is the scene: I'm at my old place with 2 roomies who I dont care for much, a lot of anxiety in the air. I have a lot of anxiety about moving and the breakup and stress at work, gender identity issues. All of this anxiety is bubbling for a few weeks and I go on a week long dissociative bender. My last dissociative use at the old place I did 3-CL-PCP through the day, then later at night 3-Ho-PCP. Not sure how much I did, but it must have been a lot because I more or less blacked out and I caused my old roomie enough concern to call 911. I remember sitting in the living room with a police officer over me and a couple other strangers. Then I black out. Then in my hallucinations I'm in a homeless shelter in Portland and a bunch of vagrants are on top of me holding me down and I cant breathe. I'm yelling at them to stop getting on top of me because they're killing me and I'm suffocating. In my hallucinations I die, smothered to death by 4 or 5 homeless people. Next thing I know I come to in the hospital, shackled to the bed. They said I was combative. Sit there for what feels like hours until I sober up enough to be discharged. I have basically no clothes so I have to wear to hospital gown and a pair of sweats that a RN got me on the bus ride home, and once off the bus had to walk 2 miles in the hospital gown and slippers, in the snow, until I finally got home.
Since then, I realize that the "homeless" people who were smothering me were cops and EMTs. I came too incredibly sore. Like every muscle in my body was in agonizing pain from fighting for my life. Had a huge scratch down my eye and across my face, bruises all up and down each arm and leg. Like the bottom half of each 4 of my appendages were purple for about 2 weeks. My right ankle is still swollen and bruised. I honestly think the cops may have fractured it because it's been like 3 weeks and its still swollen and bruised as all hell.
It was a very traumatic experience, obviously. But, at the very least, it's got me rethinking my relationship with dissociatives. I've always gone balls to the wall with dissos, but since then I've had 2 dissociative experiences and have kept them at low doses and kept the rest locked up in my time lock safe. I don't ever want to get into a situation like that, ever, ever again.
So yeah, that's where I've been. In the process of moving and changing jobs so I haven't been on much.
One of my managers at my current job said said something to me about the trans community that made me very uncomfortable, so that was the nail in the coffin there. I'm switching jobs. That place is no longer a safe space for me. My partner was a trans woman, I've been struggling with gender identity issues for years and have been considering transitioning as of late, so I'm not going to work in that workplace anymore. I'm gonna go cook food at the Zoo for Kids and Families to enjoy while looking at elephants and monkeys and lions and shit
My ex wife would've never tripped or done mdma with me and if she knew I was using drugs she would wig out so this is way better.
How is 4-FMA? I'm curious. 4-fluoromethcathinone was nice, 4-FA was ok, too, so I would like to try the methamphetamine and compare.
Sorry that you're having issues. I couldn't imagine.
Death in the family is a major drag - you have my sympathy Xork. Has it only been one year? That's probably the toughest one, but I image it stays tough for a long while. My wife lost her dad maybe 3 years ago in March and it's still a particularly emotional month for her.
My great uncle just passed away yesterday. Wasn't the closest with him, especially since I've grown up. But despite being a grumpy opinionated ass to be honest, he was there for me when I was a kid. And it's a huge bummer knowing he's leaving behind some people who loved him far more than I did.
Getting into my late 30s and death is more prevalent in my personal life than ever. And it obviously just keep coming. My great aunt (not the wife of recently dead uncle, she would be his sister in law)..has lost soooo many people in her life, I dunno how she keeps going. No other choice I guess. She lost her sister (my grandma) and her son (my cousin and groomsman in my wedding) within a year of each other. Don't mean to make this so self centric. Death truly affects us all, and gets us all eventually. My experience if it seems "fractal" in a way, like a spiral that starts out slow and insignificant but gets faster and faster until you eventually fall into in and are consumed
In other news: Happy 311 day!