Citation: Rissa. "From Heart Pounding to Frolicking: An Experience with Mushrooms, Cannabis, Alprazolam (Xanax) & Alcohol (exp85045)". Erowid.org. Jul 25, 2010. erowid.org/exp/85045
This is the story of my most recent mushroom trip, which occured on February 22nd, 2010.
A little background on myself and my experience with psychadelics: I began smoking pot at 16, fell in love with it, and decided right then and there that I was a drug advocate for life. Within that same year, I made it a point to try every drug that was ever presented to me: mushrooms, acid, ecstasy, cocaine, xanax, DXM... and since then, percocet, absinthe, crack, heroin, oxycontin, 2C-I, adderal, ritalin, salvia, valum, and the aforementioned, in larger doses as time went on, and in various combinations. To say the least, I'm a tad experienced in the department of drugs; not as experienced as others, but knowledgable enough to stake my claims.
As a teenager, I had a blast every single time I did mushrooms, no matter what the dosage. I'd say I've shroomed about 15 times total. But, as sad as it is, the past few times I've eaten my fungus friends, they've turned me into a panicky, paranoid, fearful individual, so obsessed with the idea that I might die, that I can't even enjoy my trip. This particular trip, my most recent one, was one of the scariest experiences of my life.
My boyfriend, R, and I check into the hotel at about 8:00 pm. We got settled into our room, went out for food and brought it back, to mix with our mushrooms. We each ate about 3.8 grams, sprinkled onto the top of our pasta, and had a glass of wine each. After we were done eating (and dosing), I rolled a cigarello filled with upper-mids of marijuana, and R filled the jacuzzi.
We both undressed and positioned ourselves carefully in the jacuzzi, making sure not to get our hands wet, so we could pass the blunt back and forth. About half-way through the blunt, R and I were freaking baked. We normally don't live so extravagantly, this night just happened to be an occasion where we both had PLENTY of money for some reason. So needless to say, a blunt between us 2 was more than enough. My body was so hard to control, as it wanted to float atop the water, and I couldn't steady myself in the tub with my hands. I began to feel some anxiety.
I started to fear that this trip might be like the last shroom trip I had, where I was seriously out of my mind, and panicked the whole duration because I thought I was fading in and out of existence, and eventually ended up thinking R's brother was going to kill himself for some crazy unknown reason. I guess the anxiety stemmed from my anticipation of these shrooms' affect on me.
The jets in the jacuzzi were pounding against my body, the water was steaming up my glasses, the pot smoke was making me choke, and the Mars Volta was playing a fast-paced jam on R's CD player, when I realized, 'Well, it's too late to go back now.' We finished the blunt, and finally could fully submerge ourselves in the bubbling hot water. R was enjoying himself, all smiles, totally stoned, and excited for his oncoming trip, just floating around in the water. It was also his first time tripping since my last shroom freak-out.
I knew I was starting to feel it about 40 minutes after we ate them. I felt it first, a strong wave of anxiety rushed over me. My heart was pounding absurdly; so fast, I couldn't catch up to it. The wallpaper on the walls surrounding the jacuzzi featured verticle lines, which at that point, had started bulging out, like the walls were being pushed from the opposite side. My boyfriend's beard was dancing atop the surface of the water. Normally, these visuals would get me excited and prepared for the rest of my trip, but my heart was beating so fast that I was getting short of breath and worried. I decided I was too hot to be sitting in that bath water, so I staggered out of the deep jacuzzi, covered myself with a towel and sat on the bed, which was right around the corner. R got out as well, as if to keep an eye on me; as we both had suspected I might freak out again. The Mars Volta had become too intense and in your face for me to listen to. It was too fast-paced and hectic and loud and was driving me literally insane, which is wierd because I normally love The Mars Volta and a various assortment of loud, fast-paced music.
At this point, it was about an hour since we had dosed. It was hitting us both really hard, both of us agreeing that it's odd how you kind of forget how shrooms hit you, no matter how many times you've done them. We both also agreed that we were entirely too hot. We both laid on the bed naked, trying to cool off and make our bodies comfortable. My heart was still pounding uncontrollably and I began to wonder if I had lost my ability to trip and have a good time. I was not in a good state of mind and couldn't get ahold of my body. It was just too intense. I couldn't speak, it was like I had completely forgotten about language and the fact that we as humans have the advantage of verbal communication. R kept messing with the AC/HEATER box in our hotel room for what seemed like hours, trying to find the right room temperature. I couldn't pay much attention to what he was doing, I just lay motionless, watching the ceiling wide-eyed, not believing what I was seeing and thinking. The stucco plaster on the ceiling seemed to have many dimensions, making the ceiling appear to be deep rather than just a flat 2d surface. The corner of the room, where the walls met, continued on...like I could see past the point where they intersected.
2 hours after we dosed, R took a purple xanax (.5 mg alprazolam). His mood seemed to lift almost instantly. He frolicked around the hotel room, bare-assed, giggling and smiling, and at one point he stood tall, legs apart, head back, eyes closed, and his arms stretched up and outward, towards space; towards everything and nothing, at the same time. Through my uneasiness, I remember thinking it was one of the most beautiful sights in the world.
I kept randomly getting scared that I was boring R, because I couldn't carry conversation or frolick around with him. I was just too bewildered to do anything. I mean, my first few hours of the trip were spent laying in bed fighting tears and battling a heart attack. I seriously thought I was losing my sanity and that I'd never return. I began to squirm in the blankets, writhing around and stretching my limbs. The body buzz of these shrooms was unlike any other shrooms I've done. It would hit my body in strong waves, kind of pleasant, but at the same time not so much. I was on an emotional rollarcoaster; switching between panic and sorrow every few minutes. I remember thinking how sad it was that something I used to enjoy doing so thoroughly had now become something I didn't have the capacity or mental strength for.
I remember looking at the clock on the DVD player: 11:42 pm. I was expecting it to be well past 2. 'Is this ever going to be over? I can't take this anymore'. R popped a couple more xanax and offered me one, but I declined, fearful that my heart might definitely stop if I pollute myself with more drugs. Instead, I managed to pack a bowl and we smoked it over the next half hour or so. We kept forgetting we were in the middle of smoking! We did this throughout the night; about 5 grams of weed we smoked total.
At about 12:30 I decided that I had already gotten myself through the peak and it wouldn't be much longer until my sanity would return. Well, not exactly. I made a trip to the bathroom for a pep-talk in the mirror. I looked myself deep in the eyes, which appeared old and tired, and said 'Come on, man. You can do this. You haven't lost it.' A few seconds later, my heart skipped a beat, followed by hard, eratic thumping. I sat on the toilet, hunched over with my head in my hands, looking at the perpendicular lines of the tiles on the floor waving around, and appearing to be multi-leveled. My depth perception was so messed up; I felt huge and tiny at the same time. It's so hard to explain. It was as if my feet extended through the tile floor for several miles. I analyzed in my mind how I could potentially be existing in multiple dimensions and wondered how many people were aware that I was this insane, despite the fact that it was only R and myself in that hotel room that night.
I rushed back into the room and flopped onto the bed. R would occasionally lay beside me and make sure I was doing okay. I was starting to feel a little better, meaning less panicked. He offered me xanax again, and this time I accepted; somehow I was less afraid I might die. I think my worst fear that night was dying and missing my own death. I took 1 purple football and was feeling on top of the world within 20-25 minutes, I assume. I was still tripping, very hard, but since I had taken the xanax, I was actually okay with it and was letting it happen. I wasn't fighting it anymore; I wasn't wishing it would be over. Instead, I was looking around the room, mouth wide-open with a huge smile, like some sort of crazy person. Roibyrt and I decided to look out the window and we were amazed by the reminder that there actually was another world outside; that there was more going on in the world than just what we were trying to accomplish in that hotel room.
Within that hour, R and I took the rest of the xanax we had brought with us. All in all, I had 4 (2 mg) and he had 6 (3 mg). I remember getting so pissed at myself for not having taken the xanax earlier, for I had realized I could have avoided all that stress, anxiety, and panic that had consumed me all night long. We were feeling so great that we compared the physical feeling of the mixture (shrooms and xanax) to MDMA or OxyContin. It was incredible and hard to describe to say the least. It had been about 5.5 hours since we dosed and we were starting to come down. Still getting visuals, especially with my eyes closed, but I wasn't feeling insane anymore.
We then remembered that over the course of the evening, R had refilled the bath water and it was just around the corner, waiting for us to come swim in it. Still undressed from earlier, we both got into the jacuzzi. I was so grateful to be feeling sane again, and we were both in such great moods. We messed around in the tub, playing with the jets and different settings, laughing hysterically at dumb things, and ultimately ended up having some great sex, which carried over from the tub back onto the bed. Afterwards, we smoked some more weed and cigarettes, drank a little more wine, and decided we had fully come down from the shrooms, but were still pretty destroyed from the xanax. It was about 4 am and we had to be checked out by 11 am, so we set the alarm on my cell phone and turned out the lights. We talked and laughed until we both passed out. The next day, we woke up still feeling the xanax. We revisited the night before, reminding each other of random things that we had done or said, and explaining our altered states.
I now wish I had taken those purple xanax before I took the shrooms, because I honestly think I could have had an awesome trip the whole way through. R and I have discussed many times since how we may have potentially found an affective way to avoid 'the fear'. I will definitely start all my trips with xanax, and not hot tubs, for now on.
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