About six years ago, I was put on probation for something stupid I did my senior year of high school. To satisfy my “stonerish” habits while still circumventing my weekly drug tests, I switched over to spice. Everything seemed so normal at first; just blazing with my friends like always. After a while, I starting smoking it quicker. Instead of a bag per week, it was now two. Then three, four, and so on, until I was smoking it all day, every day. My personality changed entirely, although I was the only one unaware of it. A friend of mine was caught with weed and put on probation as well, so he switched drugs just as I had a year previously. That was the beginning of a twisted co-dependent relationship that drove us apart forever.
Fast forward two years: I’d lost my house and moved back home, screwed over everyone I knew at least twice, stolen an unfathomable amount of spice and pipes from a friend’s head shop, “borrowed” my parents’ debit cards countless times, and stolen my mother’s engagement ring to pawn for spice money. The day after my parents found out that I had stolen the ring, my probation ended, and I was officially done with spice. Nevertheless, my parents kicked me out and changed to locks on their house. I ended up on the couches of several completely insane strangers I met on Facebook (since all of my real friends had kicked me to the curb). My parents, seeing that I was truly lost without their support, took me back home after about three months of living in dangerous situations with unstable drug addicts. I began seeing a therapist, whom I still visit regularly after all this time.
I’m on a daily regimen of low-dose mood stabilizers to control the damage done by almost three years of continuous spice abuse. I suffer from near-crippling social anxiety and paranoia; I rarely go out in public these days. Life is no longer normal for me: my perception of reality is permanently skewed and everything seems to be a poorly-animated cartoon from the nineties. I still smoke marijuana, no more than a gram per week, but even the mellow, natural high is often ruined by flashbacks from the addiction years. I am, in the truest sense of the word, altered. My mind simply doesn’t function the way it used to.
Despite all of that horror I managed to get things back on track: I’m now in college, I have a steady job on a horse farm, a beautiful girlfriend, and an unbreakable bond with my family. My addiction to spice nearly destroyed my life. Hell, it pretty much did. Without the support of my loved ones, I would have died a long time ago. Every day is a struggle for me, but at least I’m alive.