Citation: Phiz. "Granny's Got a Gun: An Experience with Mushrooms, Cannabis & Amoxicillin (exp58462)". Erowid.org. Apr 3, 2007. erowid.org/exp/58462
||(cookie / food)
My mushroom trip occurred last night. The events still confuse me to think of today but the reasons for why I took them to begin with still remains a question to me. I don't think I've started with any valuable respect for this psychoactive substance and I wish to make clear to everyone before I even kick off this report that the respect and understanding of the substance you are putting into your body is of highest and MOST IMPORTANT value not just to you but to the substance that's been grown and handed to you, the people around you, and most importantly, your beloved friends whathaveyou.
It may seem like I didn't know what I was getting myself into. A world of trouble, perhaps. But for the most part, I look at myself before last night's experience as a clueless drone. There was not much going on inside my head at the time. My mindset to begin with was a tad carefree but a little more on the physically ill side. I was just getting over the worst sinus infection of my life along with making some sickly-based decisions for the few previous days where I should've been in bed resting like any normal human being in my physical state. But no, I had to defy the laws of sick, go against my best intentions, and stubborn myself to death by eating what I call the chocolate from hell.
My friend m had made a batch of chocolate shrooms with a double boiler I had lent him and cut me a deal on two when I bought them since I'd helped him not have to go out and buy one for $20. He told me to eat one first before ingesting the other if I chose to do so to test potency for him and give feedback. So gineau-pigging it, I merrily strolled back over to my friend l's apartment with a sean in my passenger seat and got around to smoking the biggest joint I'd ever rolled, ever, about a half hour later. The events from here on out become a little unglued.
It being the night before new years eve and a saturday, and the time of departure being 4:20pm [how typical], things were getting busy, instead of winding down like I had wanted. I looked at l and asked 'Should I do it?' half asking for permission to shroom at her place half asking just for the silly sake of asking. Because I knew I was wanting to. And unlike my last experience, I had a slight feeling that since I had started in a great mood rather than a stressful one and despite being sick, this trip may turn out to be wonderful instead of the hellish ordeal it turned out to be. I started heavily optimistic and wanted to have a great night. The apartment was nothing short of comfort for me, even though it wasn't my place. And l was a really humorous person to be around in general. I didn't know if I'd even trip at all so we smoked half the joint and remained watching the movie 'Sideways'.
Halfway through the movie, a body high started. I remember the light of the dusk hurting my eyes for some reason and huddling under a blanket was not what everyone else was doing at the time. l sat on a pc game for a good while and because it was her place, I didn't really ask to change the movie because it wasn't bothering me yet. Then it did. I wanted music because I felt it would help but then everything started becoming too fast paced. Things were spinning. It all happened so quick that it crazed me. I will take this time to space some events out.
About a good hour prior to when the trip began, I had called a friend from two cities over who, the day previous, got me out of a shitty situation. He had driven 300 miles to grab me out of a two-night hiking expedition in the woods with nothing but boys during what I mentioned previously to be the worst sinus experiences ever.
I wanted to be a great friend in return by hooking him up with the other mushroom chocolate and in turn, inviting him out that night. I had started at 4 and he had arrived by 5, in full garb at the apartment. By that point, I was tripping balls and the uptight demeanor of his garb completely threw me off. I felt sloppy compared to him and like my priorities were skewed compared to everyone else. All these people in the apartment were my friends and for a split second- everything to me felt so foreign. I became disarrayed and kept my cool as much as humanly possible. But it wasn't working.
I felt like I had made myself ill-prepared for the trip. No preparations were made. There was no respect for what I had just taken and I didn't deserve a good trip in my mind. I was inconvienencing everyone else and this was not my apartment. These people became alien to me and I felt like a giant nuisance. The only one tripping, I was spinning out of control in my head, guilt and pain shot its way through my head.
l got up off the computer, I felt like she was angry at me for inviting a over. She went to take a shower. Then sean left all of a sudden. I felt I made him uncomfortable by tripping in front of him so he chose to leave instead of watching it. Not the case. That left me and a and the music l had left on for me. The music was too sensual, too sexy to be listening to in front of a. I felt vulnerable and no amount of hiding under the blanket was going to help. I felt massively uncomfortable. Since a is a high-strung individual in general, and I was receptive to anything by that point, his stress was putting me into a world of emotional hazards. I could feel the stress and it was painful. I was feeling physical pain because of him being there. I don't know what I had done.
Striving for the pretty patterns and hallucinations I had sought, I tried explaining to a that I needed 20 minutes to calm down and trip out. Instead of occupying himself with something, he sat and watched me. I closed my eyes and thousands of mouths and teeth were screaming at me GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE. My eyes flung open. Frantic and with a still watching me, I told him I needed to go. That something was wrong that I felt sick that I need to go and he needs to go and that I'm sorry about this. His stress heightened. I told him to please calm the fuck down, calm down right now that he needs to calm down. His stress I could feel it cut the air so thick it heightened more I asked him why are you doing this? He asked me doing what? I told him I needed to go. That I didn't know where sean and l went that I was scared that this wasn't working and I needed to go home and go to sleep.
The next 20 minutes, my eyes must've been black from dilation because the frantic and pain I was feeling was immeasurable. I told l I was leaving as she got back from her shower. She began ironing and I saw that I was just a nuisance to her and in my severe panic, began grabbing my shoes and putting them on. I tried my best to pass off like everything was okay and even made idle chat as I left. Jokingly, I waved my way out the door and apologized for tripping there, and I felt relief coming off of l as I left. At least I made someone happy tonight, I thought, as a followed me down the stairs.
I knew he was let down and let on by me. Because I made horrible choices and it always seemed like they weren't as bad until they were, he always trusted me. I began my descent down three flights of stairs [three layers of personal hell] my thoughts cascading a trail of misery and perceptional distortion the whole ways behind me. As I flung open the door of the apartment complex into the dusk, I was greeted by a GLORIOUS night sky full of colors and a big group of bikers out front. Both pleased me immensely and I felt wonderful for a moment.
May I interject that I had taken a dose [and am still on] amoxicillin for the sinus which had helped immensely with the sick but I think maybe this antibiotic had a lot to do with my state at the time. This is the part of my trip where I realized what I had done wrong. I tripped on antibiotics. It had easily slipped my mind as I didn't go through the process of getting these from a doctor [grandmas come in handy only for that].
By this point, I didn't know what to do. a was confusing me and terrifying me and the panic set in when he allowed me to get into my car. A confined mechanical space on an organic drug is not a good combination. My panic heightened as a threw question after question at me as of what we were doing and what was going on. Me obviously not in the state of mind to handle these simple questions, and him being sober, it felt so horribly ass-backwards to me that I felt like I was the sober one and he was on drugs. His stress and usual panic felt stupid to me and pissed me off. The tears came. I told him I needed to get the FUCK OUT of the car. I got out and breathed deep. I told him he could follow me. He asked me 'to another parking space?' that pissed me off immensely. I felt enraged. I told him he was ruining everything. I told him I needed to go home and he could follow me. His stress hit my breaking point and I started my engine. [I'll insert this for erowid- DO NOT DRIVE ON MUSHROOMS. IT'S A STUPID FUCKING IDEA. they really don't condone it.]
Driving while intoxicated, tripping, or extremely sleep deprived is dangerous and irresponsible because it endangers other people. Don't do it!]
Somebody really could've prevented this. And because that thought was in my head the whole way back home, on the interstate, I came to the diluted realization that I had no friends. The dilusion that my concept of friends was so skewed threw me into a whirlwind of intense emotional pain. The lights of the cars around me became colorful and anytime my eyes were closed, kaleidescopes of colors blinked at me. My mind was so beautiful yet my emotions were raging out of control and I couldn't put the two together. Why am I driving? I asked myself. Why am I doing this to myself and others? I cried. I talked to myself, turned on NPR radio to listen to the banter of liberal socialist fucks trying to put optimism on a pedestal in a world where it was unnecessary. I hoped for a calming but nothing came. I turned off the radio. Why am I driving? I was screaming. I was telling myself that this isn't my fault. I was telling myself that it was just the drugs and that I was okay.
Nothing affected my driving, it was all my mind. I didn't go crazy and take out everyone on the interstate. The car itself was severely claustrophobic to me for the first time in my life and I dwelled on the fact that I've driven and lived in a car most of my life anyways. I'm very actually quite good at driving in general, otherwise I wouldn't have let myself do it. it's a rare thing when I hand my keys over to someone else.
I arrived at my house. Not a swerve on the road as it was all in my mind. My mind was swerving but the drive home was speed and road safe. I felt proud despite my poor, fragile mindstate. I had a brief moment of pride in myself that I was a strong enough individual to pull myself together enough to drive. To tell myself that it's just the drugs. To say that it will be over in a few hours and I just need to get it out now. In a way, it's always been like that although I've never realized it. I'm not physically comfortable with others although I've had my fair share of sexual experiences. I'm not intimate or romantic. Just the word 'sensual' will put me at a no-pass zone. Severe discomfort and such. I've always been the one to comfort and hold myself because nobody else ever had. Even my boyfriend wasn't there when I needed him the most. I was always there for me and always alone, and this is the conclusion I came to when I arrived.
A finally pulled up beside me. I sat on the hood of his or my car trying to calm myself down, trying to explain what went wrong and telling him what I should maybe do. He still wasn't making the situation any better so I told him to just go. I began my walk inside the empty house. Each step I took weighed down my soul as the walls of the house hold every painful memory of my life in them when I'm sober, let alone on mushrooms.
Now, before I get off track or go any further, I feel need to make mention that 'home' is at my grandmother's house, where I've lived since I was 6. I am 21 now and even though my mother has remarried three years prior and simply abandoned me there in the odd parallel universe of that house, it's never been home as it's been a breeding ground for what feels like ENDLESS EMOTIONAL TORTURE.
I will cut this part of my bad trip out. It is too personal and deeply unnecessary for me to elaborate what went on for those 30 minutes inside the house. Many many calls were made and I remember staring off and on at a set of knives, determining if I should do it or not. Finally, a friend of mine who I've always trusted with my stories and experiences arrived. I peeked my head around the door to the open garage and I saw him, he saw me and I told him to get the fuck inside the house now. I sat back down on the kitchen bench and huddled back into a ball. When I saw him, I latched onto his waist and began sobbing. I told him I've never been so happy to see him in my entire life and that I'm going absolutely insane. A left me here and he let me drive and I don't know what to do but I know that this house scares the living shit out of me and we need to get the f out of here as soon as humanly possible.
He abliged and began trying to calm me down. My room was haphazard. Everything was thrown around. He helped me get what was necessary, lock my door, turn off the lights, and clean up things before leaving. My boyfriend called asking me what was going on. I told him I was having a bad trip to not worry and that it would go away because josh was here. I told him I wasnt completely honest with him about some things and that it's nothing to worry about and that I fucked up this time. I don't remember what much else was said on his or my part but my main intention was to leave the house because the house is what burns my soul.
On the car ride to josh's, I went into a nonstop, uncontrollable fit of sobbing and shaking. I had never been so scared, dillusional, and disorientated in my life. At some points, I calmed down for a minute or two, as this guy has always been quite funny and we would have a laugh but I couldn't force myself to be even remotely happy. I had relayed to him that I've never felt comfortable before anyways. He told me 'that's a shame' and just let me get everything out that I needed to. I had been bottling things up for months to years. Some things nobody knew about me, some things I didn't even know myself. But it all came out regardless. The conversation was sour and painful to me as what felt like liquid verbal diahhrea just kept spewing and spewing and it was like I couldn't shut the faucet off. The patterns and colors whenever I blinked vibrated and hurt my skull. I don't think I've ever cried so much in my life.
Millions of screaming mouths and eyes and teeth shuttered their ways through my mind as I talked and these illusions, although making me frantic, made me realize the severity of my current situation. As soon as I realized that these images were my minds way of artistically processing emotion, the sooner I calmed down.
I explained to josh that I was glad he was the one who came and got me because I really did trust him with a lot more than anyone else with this. He was experienced with trainwrecks of trips and I trusted his second opinion when it came down to someone like me. After a few hours of what seemed like endless sobbing, it finally went away like I had told myself it would.
I felt mentally ill. My mind was actually going in circles as the things that seemed to bother me the most were the things I elaborated on a good number of times [my mother, grandmother, and the house I must've said the same things about a good 30 or 40 times] but through all this, Josh never once told me to shut up. He just sat and listened and reassured me that I wasn't pathetic or insane and that it was just the mushrooms and this was probably best for me to be going through. He is truly, all in all, a really kickass friend. And a really good cook :)
This was my second bad trip on mushrooms. Mushrooms are really not my drug of choice. I prefer something chemical like acid over something organic and it seems probably backwards to any hippies reading this but for me, that's just the way I'm wired. I'm uncomfortable with nature right now. I've never been in touch with it as I've always viewed it as something I can't physically survive in should I be naked and should it snow outside. Case in point, maybe it's just not for me although it may be for you. I feel very selfish from the whole ordeal. But I think that may be the point with any drugs? Comparing two hallucinogens for me like acid and mushrooms is an easy way to balance what works in my mind. Chemical vs. natural. Schizophrenia vs. a psychotic episode. Acid brought out my best- my creative and fun and fuckall and writing aspect of my being. While mushrooms surface all the shit of my life, stifle my creativity, and make me feel like I've been stabbed in the gut at the end. It just didn't work for me.
I want to end this on a good note though. I want to let you know that I DID get something very valuable out of each experience with mushrooms. The first time, I felt a little flat and empty at the end but a week later, I realized I had unconsciously quit smoking cigarettes. It may not seem like a big hmph to you but it's been five years and to completely disregard something of habit I've put myself into, out of nowhere. Well, that's saying a LOT.
It's been a good week since that one. After last night's, I've realized a lot about myself. I figured out who I am, mostly. I will make sure I try to help people be as happy as they can be if they mean a lot ot me but to also make sure that I'm happy as well. I've figured out a way to get myself out of the living environment my mother put me into all those years ago and to somehow recover from all those years of emotional abuse, find some sense of comfort that I've never been able to have and to realize that there's always a balance needed for everything. Humor and sorrow, hand in hand.
I will never forget my mushroom experience and it will always be a part of me.
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