Hello, everyone! The reason I am sharing my story of how I became addicted to spice, how it affected me, how it affects me now that I am in recovery, and how I got to recovery is that I want to make a difference in someone’s life and share this valuable information with the public. It all started when I was 17.
I had been using and experimenting with drugs and alcohol since around 13 years of age. I smoked weed regularly and had gotten used to the high, and it cost so much money to support my smoking habit. I didn’t hang with the best crowd, but we were all very close to each other, and I assumed with me being younger than my friends they were looking out for me and wouldn’t put me in harm’s way.
My friend and my boyfriend came over, and we were smoking weed, and a subtle joint was forwarded to me, and they said: “Hit it once and pass it.” I laughed and thought it was a joke because we never would get high off of that little joint. So I hit it hard, and they screamed at me to stop. I got scared and said “Why are you acting like that? I can handle myself.” Suddenly I felt kind of weird but it was okay I didn’t mind it.
My friend looked at me with a huge grin on his face and said the word in such a loving almost lustful way “Spice.” They told me as long as I didn’t take too many hits of it I would be fine, we kept smoking it till he left. My boyfriend said we could get a lot of spice for 30 dollars instead of a couple of grams of weed.
That since we only needed to hit it a couple of times it would last forever! I was so happy because I loved it. It was perfect. No more failing drug tests, no more spending half a paycheck, no more monotony of smoking weed!!
At first, it wasn’t a problem for me and my boyfriend. We would smoke all day, and nothing bad happened until one night when it had gotten dark, and we went to a rather familiar spot in the woods to be out of sight by police and other people and cars. We moved from straw paper, joints, and blunts rather quickly.
We lit the blunt of spice, the type it was is called “Physco” (Because that sounds like something great to smoke*SARCASTIC VOICE*) and I hit it a couple of times. I had to sit down, proceeded to lose my hearing; then I started running back to the parking lot because I was freaking out. I dropped half way, and things went dark like I was being swallowed in a black pit and I could hear everyone running up and yelling my name and stuff, but it was much muffled.
My boyfriend picked me up and carried me out of the woods and sat me in the car. I looked off in the distance, and things were brilliant. That was the first time it scared me enough where I didn’t smoke again that night until the next day came. We started our ritual of getting high before school and work.
Eventually, I dragged so much I would have to bring it to school with me. I was in Cosmetology School and who wants someone to do their hair when they are high?? NO ONE. I stopped attending every day and would skip mornings most of the time. I went from a star student to being behind on everything and having social issues at school.
I tried to not smoke at school once I realized how big of an issue it was but the one day I decided only last for 3 hours at school before driving to home to get spice because I started to withdraw and was going crazy. I had no idea that I was smoking so much and it was such a bad drug until that point because I was not smoking.
It soon escalated even faster to me not coming home on time and stealing from my family to buy more Spice, wrecking my car always, and then I started not eating and not showering. My car was filled with trash and clothes and blankets and old food. My room had mom had accumulated bugs and mold and burn holes in collected bugs and mold and burn holes in my clothes and burns on my skin from falling asleep with lit blunts.
My parents would confront me, and I would just leave the situation and stay at a hotel or a friend’s house. Or I would say things like “I’m going to kill you” to my parents and try to hit them. I felt terrible about it so I would just smoke more spice.
This one time my mother gave me money to leave her house. She didn’t want me there anymore. I got a hotel and me, and a few people were in there, and there was a firearm in the room, and I had not experienced this side effect from Spice yet, but my friend shot himself because he was high on spice playing with a weapon.
I immediately lost my mind. We all did but especially me because someone told me that I started screaming and crying and running and it was all a huge blur. He ended up being okay, and I thought maybe I was just really sensitive to the situation, but I started having more and more freakouts more and more frequently.
Nothing would be happening, and I’d starts to make these noises like I was a whale and then start crying. On occasions, I would try to kill myself. Sometimes if we were up high like on a building or a railroad track, I would try to leap off while screaming for help. I didn’t want to die, but something wanted to pull me off.
I was being dragged to the edge. I would try to slit my wrists. I even almost ran out in traffic to get hit by a car. The whole time this was going on sometimes I was not aware this was happening. Nobody even really paid much attention to it because everyone was addicted to spice and it had gotten reasonable to us.
People having seizures and passing out and getting in wrecks and losing their minds and nobody cared much. I ignored the reality because I needed to get high so I took the “right” with the BAD. I would be at parties drooling on myself and not speaking words just making sounds and embarrassing myself where people took videos and photos of me, and nobody was making sure I was okay.
I still did NOT care. It was my love. I had to start driving 3 hours away multiple times a week to get spice because the “plug” or dealer would run out and I could not smoke. Thousands of dollars on gas and spice I wasted. I looked like a drug addict. Everyone knew. I hated looking at myself and taking pictures because of how I looked.
I used to weigh 158 pounds, and now I weigh 100 pounds if I’m soaking wet, my teeth were chipping. My hair looked awful, I was burned up and cut up and bruised up. I was throwing up blood regularly, and I was always dirty. I stopped wearing shoes for the whole summer because I lived out my car and I never did anything.
I would go to apartment complexes and stay on the patios or at the bottom of empty pools and playgrounds. I would steal from the grocery store and drug stores. Cops would harass my friends and me because we were always in parking lots for hours smoking in and out of consciousness. I finally totaled my car.
I hit a tree going over at least 45 mph, and my car was ruined. All the airbags deflated, wheel through my engine, windshield shattered, and the front was smashed. I didn’t feel a damn thing. I barely knew I crashed. I remember being wet from the air bags which I thought was blood and I did a roll out of my car and started running.
I came to and realized I was all right. I wasn’t in pain, I wasn’t bleeding, and my bones were okay. The paramedics and police and a fire truck came, and all said I should get checked out but I was scared to go, and I felt fine, so I declined. I just kept smoking to keep any pain away. It makes you numb. I finally decided I needed lots of help. I started cutting back because you can’t go cold turkey. YOU CAN DIE.
It was a daily struggle, and for a long time I would pick spice up out of my carpets with a flashlight and tweezers and find some here and there. I was sick. I felt like I was on more drugs as I was withdrawing. I was sweating out the spice, it was getting out of my organs, and I was up for days on end.
I would take quick naps and couldn’t sleep all night for at least a good week and a half. I was furious and easy to cry. I had PTSD from stuff I had done and been through while strung out. I was majorly depressed. My mental state was awful. Eventually, I became dull. Almost like my mind was blind. But then I went back to normal.
My teeth are still chipped, and I still have scars, and I feel like sometimes my brain ‘s not right, and I can defiantly tell that there are trauma and its probably long lasting effects, but now that I’m sober of spice I feel much better and hate it very much.
I know if it were in my hands I would do it again and go back to where I was so I have to be very careful not to trigger myself and not to be around it. I have to be strong for me. I hope I can stay clean for the rest of my life.
Though sometimes my mind trips me up and makes me feel like someday I’m going to relapse because it’s so addictive. I want people to see the ins and outs and what it was like for me because you may have a loved one that is going through it and has no idea.
I know my parents didn’t understand or even know until I told them. Be Vigilant and Be Proactive. Or maybe you or someone you love needs to read this to scare them and let them see where their life is headed.
Spice/ K2/ Synthetic marijuana is NOT A JOKE. Currently, I’m going to school, Engaged to the love of my life, am getting a house and have the car I like because I decided to get help. You can do it too.
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