I struggle frequently. I don't like going fast, I like speeding up. Nothing satiates me the way I'd like it to, I have severe health anxiety and actively stress about these lumps in my neck while snapping a packed bong bowl loaded 50/50 weed and tobacco, and then take one 30 minutes later, and another.
since I was young I've been justifying myself and actions to the authority in my head. always running simulations of getting "in trouble" for whatever I was doing not because I was doing anything wrong but just for fear that my actions would be misunderstood. I was a very behaved child, but was punished by my environment for my existence constantly. Anxious anxious child, worried over everything. As I type this I am reminded of being in a motel room when I was 7 or 8, and my mom had given me a walkie talkie to stay in contact with her while she went to the bar for an hour. She answered a call or two and then I remember not being able to hear her over the background noise and music, loud voices and chaos. Being so desperate and feeling as if the world was ending and being in that room in a limbo for hours, trying and trying the walkie and waiting for any response.
Anxious anxious anxious. Constantly worrying, constantly in a desperate plea with the voice in my head to understand me, to know im not bad, to not hurt me. THC had entered my system multiple times before I ever endeavored to "try weed", so when I was 15 and smoked from a can under my buddies porch it was fireworks and angels and shakira herself giving me a hug and a sweet kiss on the temple and telling me its all gonna be okay now. the simulation was gone, the constant calculations of imminent threat, the hypervigilance, the never-ending panic plea to the almighty in my brain, the anxiety, it was all gone in a puff. I couldn't fucking believe it. That was it. My whole life up to that point I did everything in my power to follow rules and be good. My parents despite being hopeless addicts themselves always repeated to me "drugs are for losers" and I never questioned it. My parents were horribly neglectful but they were nice, I didn't believe they would purposefully lie to me. They LOVED me, life just got in the way, as I understood it. Smelling weed and being hit with about 37,000 different "smemories" of my whole upbringing and instantly understanding this was a substance that every adult in my life and presence had been partaking in regularly - and then it being fucking awesome and the "cure" to my head - really undid my trust in "drugs are for losers".
Weed, nicotine, alcohol. everything else i've been able to have a good time and leave it alone. I might be dumb and take 6 points of molly in 2.5 days or meet a chill person on a night out and have a little coke-venture but I've never struggled to stop those things after I've gone to sleep/ left the area. But alcohol numbs the pain, it brings out my social butterfly. I was 17, my mom had been gone for years, my dad died that morning. passed in a hot spring, with a lady and a bottle and probably some shit meth. I moved into a communal apartment situation above a bar. 5 rooms for rent, shared common area stuff. my older cousin had a room there and got me one too for $200/month. He brought me in and sat me on the couch and gave me a Marlboro and a screwdriver and told me that's the day I become a man. I smoked a half pack a day starting that night. and began a very wicked journey and relationship with alcohol.
Screwdrivers, vodka OJ, such a simple drink but it is the perfect alcoholic beverage and "I'm not arguing, I'm telling you what the truth is" (Dr. Edward Grand Ph.D.). I drank a lot, I really liked drinking alone, and I really liked drinking with people. I met one of my other roommates and was in his early twenties, he introduced me to his friend group and they took me in. they were 24-28 and I was 17 but they treated me as equal and we were like a small family. They introduced me to taking shots. I was taking 15-20 shots of popov just about nightly, going to school still drunk in the morning and leaving early to go hang out and drink more. It was and is the happiest and most loved i've ever felt in a family dynamic. 9 months later I'm off to one of the top ten party universities in the US, pledging a fraternity. My desperation for acceptance and my recently honed skills in consumption met in perfect pairing. I had a nightmare about doing coke a week before I moved on campus, in the dream I liked it so much it ruined my life immediately and when I woke up it really shook me, I vowed I would never try it. THE Thursday I moved onto campus I found myself in a locked room at a house party with 5 or 6 kids passing around a dinner plate. I asked how much for a bump, 8 bucks, done deal. Absolute pinnacle of will power :P
Everyone really liked that I could drink a lot, and they would make shocked faces and be impressed when I didn't need a chaser, it felt good. When I pledged the fraternity my dorm cafeteria pass for the term was refunded to me and rather than pay the frat I bought a brown paper grocery bag full of packs, no cartons just a bunch a different packs, and a lot of coke. and a lot of weed and booze, obviously. It was the tits, I had no fear, all hype. I was so gassed up I tried salvia knowing everyone else hated it and had the most intensely euphoric psychedelic experience of my life, I'm talking fully blacked out in my mind experiencing more pure happiness than any amount of molly or sex or not-dying-after-almost-dying could ever give while witnessing this vision of a city woven from pure euphoria basking in sunlight while in the real world I was sitting at a park bench scream-laughing at the night sky while my friends tried to get me to shut up. I had no expectations for anything, and felt like there was something to be gained from most everything.
Then I missed an English class and it would've been fine but I had no good reason for missing the class I just had slept in and decided not to go rather than being late. but the anxiety of facing my professor with either lies or shitty truth got to me, sparked a lot of old stuff and that made me miss a second class. 2 weeks later I had effectively dropped out of all my classes. I spent the next 2 months just living on campus and partying, while everyone else went to class I just found other friends that weren't in class atm and kept it chugging. Theres something very very fulfilling about doing substances with other people, I guess its probably just our need or craving for community. I started buying dabs and would dab out everyone in the room always until they tapped out or the dabs were gone. I never cared about money because it will always not be enough, and i REALLY liked getting fucked up with people. They called me dab daddy, it was silly and endearing and filled my heart to be around them so much. I worried if I didn't have dabs they wouldn't be there. I've never been sure of what I have to offer that entices anyone to linger, but once they do few things terrify me more than the thought of them leaving me. In practice I do quite well with abandonment, in concept it destroys me.
a couple years ago now I was at harry reid for a layover, getting flown out by my at-the-time lover to visit for a week. not like a fling thing but like someone I might've ended up with for good. I couldn't help myself and just thought I'd hang out at the bar for a minute have a chat, have screwdriver and then go lay down for a nap. They served me 8 doubles over the next 2 hours. I blacked out, I woke up to knocking on the bathroom stall, got escorted out by a cop. Out of the bathroom, they let me stay in the airport. I spent the next 6 hours traveling miserable as fuck. Got to my destination, used the bathroom and discovered I never wiped when I blacked out. Just travelled all that way in filth without even realizing it. I don't mean to sound like I was leaking out my drawers or anything, I didnt even have a single skidmark astonishingly, but I've got a lot of mental issues and compulsions around bathroom cleanliness. Type to give a little test wipe if I feel my crack is sweaty "just in case". I used to wipe till blood, every time, until I was saved by the bidet 6 years ago. point being I am very very not okay with being not clean down there, and having that realization that I had been shitty that whole journey because I couldn't help but get blacked out an airport bar during a layover really hurt my head.
a couple weeks later I quit everything all at once, probably don't do that. that sucked a lot and I cried a lot  everything hurt my feelings and everything made me cranky. after a few weeks it got easier, and I stumbled across the most horrifying realization of my addiction journey. The drugs weren't getting in the way of my life its these damn phones. sober as a fucking judge just scrolling my life away, but I always loved to do chores while drunk. It really pissed me off after having used "it'll make my life better" to pull strength from on the mission to sobriety and succeeding. Sober, and still so unsatisfied. it lasted a couple months. started drinking again, slipped fast, in a couple weeks went from sober to half a liter of vodka a night, thc and tobacco all day every day.
Then things started picking up with my partner and I realized drinking was my biggest red flag, and also the one thing I could just chose to stop doing. Stopped drinking february 28th of this year, was sober off it for 102 days or so and now only drink when I'm going to a rave or wedding or event sort of deal, and its like 2-3-4 drinks max, max max. I've had 4-5 of those types of nights since I quit and it's felt really nice, no more cravings than usual (which is very minimal) and I don't feel worried about it. When I know I can't have something I crave it 100x harder, so having the condition of basically "not never, just not right now" has been insanely productive for my personal journey with the jazz.
I still need to get a handle on tobacco and weed. I'm not worried about the nicotine, it'll suck hard but I don't feel good when I smoke/vape nicotine, it just quiets the cravings for a bit. at least with the other things there is actually a headspace difference to enjoy. Weed though is hard, I used to have really really good memory and have always been good at mental math and was generally blessed with the smarties. Gifted and Talentedβ’. I could run to the store for my friend group and remember everything everyone wanted like a waiter at a diner thats worked there way too long it was the tits. but now if I'm copying a sentence over or say writing an address and name on a fucking letter I have to check multiple times during because I can't remember the next letter/number. I've been shown polaroid's taken a month prior of times I have no recollection of. and it's not that I was fucked up or anything it just doesn't stick.
It feels like my treads are full of mud and I got no more traction.
When I was younger and took a tolerance break I distinctly remember feeling like a superhero after week 2 with how much faster and sharper I felt mentally. but this last year I went 3 months or so and had just as much brainfog at the end as the beginning. I intend to start micro-dosing, and I hope that it may help some of the fog. My nervous system feels stuck, I feel stuck. I have hope for the future, allegedly. I say it and I understand it, even if I dont feel it- I hope to invoke some of it's power. Will it into existence. I think I am bracing for impact, and that I have been for a very long time now. The impacts used to come often, and though they don't come as frequently they seem as brutal as ever in the moments before, during, and after. I know that in order to move forward I need to stop bracing, but I struggle to rework these patterns.
My mom called me the night before last, it was her birthday and no one reached out to her. She is old now, older in looks than my grandma when she passed. We facetimed, and she was kind of fucked up but I felt too guilty to not talk. She looked so old. Even now it makes me sob, it hurts to acknowledge. She cried a lot during the call and I did my best to comfort her. I cried a lot after the call and my partner did her best to comfort me. In the time since we've been estranged I've become a man, I am not her little boy, I am a 6ft+ bearded nearly 30 year old man. She has gotten so old, her hair is completely white and her eyes were so sad and deep and she just looked so tired. I'm having trouble reading these words through my tears and even more trouble remembering what my point to any of this is. It hurts I guess, is the point. I'm in pain, and I see that you all are too, and I appreciate you for being here. by any means, seeing her in her old age still struggling with addiction and being at the whim of her environment has brought up a lot of feelings. I will likely use nicotine and thc to deal with these feelings, for now. Thank you for bearing witness to my words, I find myself mentally-arguing with those above me apologizing for "rambling" so I will refrain from saying sorry and instead just leave it at thank you.
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 The TekDek v.2 Autist Tally 
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the depression and pain of sobriety is eating me alive. For what it's worth I've been tapering this week. Now the goal is make to it 48 hours. 
