Citation: Raoul. "Human Conscience and Chemical Intercourse: An Experience with 5-MeO-DiPT (exp22261)". Erowid.org. Mar 20, 2003. erowid.org/exp/22261
It had been a long time since I had touched a hallucinogenic substance. There was a reason I had quit doing them. As I lay in bed almost two years ago, unable to sleep after a horrible experience on a heavy dose of AMT, I knew that something had to change. I did not sleep for several days after the experience, as I was constantly haunted by disturbing visions and the howls of ungodly curses in my ear. In a cry of despair, I swore off every hallucinogen and vowed to myself and God to never touch severe mind-altering chemicals again. They had taken their toll on me, and it seemed I had little left to live for.
My life was a wreck for several months after the experience. I could not get restful sleep. Ethanol helped me get to sleep initially, but my tolerance quickly grew, and soon I was literally intoxicating myself in order to sleep. Finally, I went to a doctor to tell him my problems. I told him that I was ever-haunted by visions and auditory hallucinations (caused by psychological deterioration encouraged by high-dose psychedelic use) that kept me from sleep and made my performance at work drop. I almost wanted to get nailed by the runaway Mack truck and thus end this miserable existence.
He didn't want to put me on anti-depressants; nor did I want them. I only wanted sleep, and knew that if only I could get some Xanax to help me sleep, it would aid in my recovery. He agreed whole-heartedly, and prescribed me 1 milligram of Xanax every night to help me sleep. It worked like a charm, and within six months, I had weaned myself of this precious benzodiazepine and was back to normal. I started my own business, got back on good terms with my church and family (who were concerned about my drug use), and I soon found myself engaged to be married.
Time passed, and I was blessed with a child, and as my new life enveloped me, old memories were lost in the wind. I always kept a large pharmacopæia in the house - pain killers, benzodiazepines, central nervous system stimulants, etc. but only used them very occasionally or when necessary. My life was certainly not that of a drug user. However, because of increasing work hours and a sudden trip out of town, I broke out the Dexedrine and prepared myself to work some long shifts. The travel was arduous and was hardly rewarding, nevertheless it had to be done. The work was tedious, but after a week, it was all finished. I definitely needed to catch up on sleep, and the combination of little sleep and many a Dexedrine capsule played fanciful tricks with my eyes, as I could see little movies and cartoons playing on the walls, and watch as ghosts and beautiful creatures pranced about my field of vision. I could simply think of an idea, an object, or an activity, and there it would appear in front of me. A few times, what I saw was disturbing, but I merely looked away and got back to work. In all this, my sanity stayed with me despite the presence of visions.
As soon as these new and enjoyable phenomena reappeared, the old memories of the repercussions of heavy psychedelic abuse disappeared into the distant past. I decided to procure some 5-MeO-DiPT to experiment the next time I got the chance. It was no problem; it was cheap and I had it delivered to the office. Nobody asked any questions. I still had my good precision scale around the house, and I pilled up the entire bottle into capsules, each one containing about 30 - 35 milligrams. Then, I put them into the already stocked medicine cabinet and awaited the right day.
I had stayed out late one night, and my wife was frustrated with me. She had a list of chores she needed done, and in her mind, I had ruined my chances of getting them done by staying out so late. She awoke and left the house to spend several hours with her friends, leaving me lying in bed. This was the right time. I forced myself out of bed, and quickly grabbed the capsule which looked like it had the most in it (this one had at least 35 milligrams), removed the top and swallowed the open capsule. Unfortunately, some of the powder latched onto the back of my tongue, causing the foulest of tastes. A few croutons later, this was but a memory.
And now, the chores. I started prioritising the chores, thinking of which ones could wait until later and which ones I should get done now. I started through them very quickly and seemed intent on completing them. The more I focused on my tasks as my 'duties' the less distracted I became. One hour into the trip, and my vision was loaded with the tryptamine veins. Patterns popped out of nowhere and colours leapt from every nook and cranny of my field of perception. Finally, the nausea got to me, and I vomited the little that was in my stomach. This had little effect on what followed.
I completed just about all my chores. My wife called and said that she was on her way home, so I went to stare into space for a while and see what nifty patterns I could see while I awaited her arrival. The shadows on the wall evaporated into steam and formed clouds of green and red colour, when suddenly, a giant face came from the wall, as if to confront me.
I suddenly left that room and went to another room to examine a broken light fixture, thinking that simply ignoring the disturbing vision would be enough to make the fear subside. It didn't. This instantaneous morbid terror gripped me from the innermost being. I began to fumble and shake with tremors of fear. This paranoia I knew was irrational, but my knowledge did little to ease the inner strife.
Soon, my wife and child returned, and I went out to greet them. I was very terrified of what would happen if their faces began to distort like what I had seen on the wall all too recently (and in many past journeys). She walked in and I immediately resumed repairing the light fixture, hoping that my focus on my duties would make the pain leave. For the most part, it worked, and I made a mental list of things that I needed to buy at the store and told her that I would be out to pick up a few things. She seemed content and then proceeded to lie down and nap for a while.
I got my cigarettes and my keys and headed for the car. Escape. I needed to get out of there and let this chemical pass from me. People talk a lot about 'respect' for this chemical and that plant, but I refused to let this chemical master me. I had things to do, and I was not about to let some irrational respect get in the way. Lighting the cigarette had a very nice, calming effect, and oldies on the radio proved to calm me down.
[Editor Note: It is irresponsible to drive when substantially altered because a momentary loss of focus can lead to someone else's death or serious injury. Steps must be taken before one ingests a psychoactive to avoid situations where driving will be necessary.]
When I got to the store, I took my time. I needed light bulbs, but took a lot longer time than any ordinary male in a hardware store. I looked at the caulk, the bolt and lug assemblies, and even browsed the painting aisle. After purchasing the bulbs, I went out to the front to inspect all the outdoor storage sheds for sale just for fun, all the while silently praying that the effects of this chemical would pass from me quickly. I was one the way back home, and at the last minute, I was horrified of facing my family in this condition, so I drove instead to the nearby lake to contemplate my situation.
I went out onto the loading dock. It was cold, and I had short sleeves on. My head was covered well, but the wind was forceful, pushing the loading dock up and down with each passing wave. Different thoughts came to mind, but I devoted an entire half-hour to pray. I knew that this self-centred approach to drugs was what damaged my head to begin with. Two years ago, I lay in bed with a 'bleeding brain', unable to sleep because of this very thing, and here I was completely twisted after having been given a second chance.
The water looked like it was boiling and the overwhelming feeling of impending doom did not go away. I pleaded again and again. I knew that I had no business touching this stuff. My conscience was screaming at me, 'You fool! You fool! Why have you done this thing?' I had no answer. I had nothing. And on top of it all, I knew that my feelings and visions were artificial, the result of a chemical, nothing more, and yet I was constantly horrified.
I decided that it was time I faced up to the decision I had made and try to get home and sleep it off. About five hours had passed and the profound visual aspects of the drug had long gone, but my psyche remained chained and subservient. I got home, saw my wife in bed and immediately decided to take a shower. It was quite a process, trying to avoid looking the mirrors in the bathroom at all costs and still managing to shave every part of my scruffy face. Finally, I was done, and I went into the bedroom to face my wife.
She awoke, and looked at me. She wasn't smiling. She only asked one thing: 'Why are your eyes dilated?'
'Because I took drugs. And now I'm all messed up. I know I'm not supposed to, and I swore I would never do this again, but I did anyway. I promise I'll never do it again. Please forgive me.'
By this point, I was in tears, and instead of paranoia and impending doom, I felt remorse and I felt my wife's disappointment. She was very quick to forgive me and proceded to hug me and she told me that she loved me. Then, I felt her warmth in a very special way. She had every reason to be furious with me, but instead she responded in love and concern, and that made my sadness ever greater, but all the more cathartic. The release was there. No more impending doom. Now that my hand was open, I could deal with my problems with her help.
'It's not good for you, dear,' she said. I know. I knew. But I had done it anyway. She had many questions. She had never talked to a tripping person before, so the conversation that ensued was enlightening for her. I answered her questions, but knew that she was sceptical about my promise. I tried telling her over and over that it was truly my last time, and she said that she believed that I meant it, but also knew that I obviously had a weakness. The day went on, and slowly the negative psychological affects of the drug wore off, and I was mainly left with small little visuals, trails, and a lot of trisma. When nightfall came, thirteen hours after the dose was taken, I was still seeing things, and unable to sleep. Upon closing my eyes, the usual tryptamine visions dominated: patterns, colours, shapes, and never-ending tessellations.
I went to the cabinet and swallowed half of a Xanax bar, and returned to bed. By morning, I was tired, and I had other things to do. Caffeine helped get me energised temporarily, but I had about a three-day hangover, wherein I had much sleeping to do. During this period, my creative energies were gone, and I had little will to do anything but sleep. The guilt and oppression of my conscience were making sure I didn't forget. Even at the end of the third day, I was still seeing things. What was supposed to be a three-hour tour turned into a three-day nightmare. This was a cause of great concern to me. But, by the fourth day, I was back to normal, and full of natural energy again.
I don't know why I had forgotten my promises or why I justified the breaking of my oath, but for some reason, at some unknown point, a small psychological trigger was flipped in the dark corner of my brain, and I made sense of a decision that violated everything I knew to be right. This chemical didn't teach me anything. I don't have any respect for it now, nor did I ever. What I did learn was that I am human, and we humans are made with a conscience that exists apart from and transcends any chemical reaction that scientists could ever hope to explain.
If you have any qualms about taking chemicals for any reason, stay away. Psychedelics help you look inside yourself and bring the mental structure of your subconscious mind to the surface. For many, this is not always the most beautiful thing in the world. I knew better. I am blessed to be alive and to have the family that I have. I did not renew any previous vow; I only returned to keeping the one that I made so long ago, when the memory of psychic horror was not so distant, and there was no joy in the artificial visions that were burned into my brain.
Keep in mind that you may think that you know yourself. Drugs do not necessarily help you know yourself better; they may just make a big mess of your brain. Anyone can take drugs. It takes a wise man to discern the truth apart from them. If you're trying to hide a beach ball under the water, drugs will make you very vulnerable, and soon, your secrets will find you out.
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