I’m 22 years old, and spice has been the devil in my life since I was 16. I was the good girl, never had any interest in partying, drinking or drugs until I lost my virginity. After that, it was over.
One day after school my little brother and one of his friends rolled up a joint, mom was at work & we were at home alone, so I figured why not? Spice was the first thing I’ve ever smoked, and the way my brother was talking about it being legal and sold in stores, I figured it couldn’t be bad.
I mean it was just once right? We went outside, and I took two small hits. As I was walking inside the house, my world started to fade together. As soon as I got inside the house, I was uncontrollable laughing and rolling on the floor.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about it, I liked the escape, but for the rest of the night, I wasn’t myself. The next day I told my friend about Spice not knowing how evil it was & at the time I convinced her to smoke with us.
Next thing I knew, we were regularly buying it from the store. It didn’t help that my ex was getting hooked, I was young I was blind. After a few months, it was so hard to find, so we just switched to weed. A few months or so later it started popping back up in stores, and it was cheaper than weed with a stronger high, so we switched back.
At the time I had to pass a drug test for my job, so it was perfect. I got the job and was working as a lifeguard (smoking pot every day and a few times a week hit Spice with my ex). One day one of my coworkers mentioned that he could get a joint of legal. Shit, we were bored, and the pool was dead.
Hell yeah, I wanted to get high. We found ourselves smoking every time we worked together. I mostly preferred weed at the time, but I would smoke spice if anyone were smoking it. It was when I started to see its evil; I’ve watched people have seizures, scream as if they are possessed. I’ve also had a bad trip to where I couldn’t hear anything.
I couldn’t talk, and I couldn’t walk. My legs were Jello. My brother quit after that and after I backed off, for a while. Meanwhile, my brother and ex had gotten hooked. Looking back now, I remember watching my brother go through the withdrawal he used to have to smoke it during school and his sports practices just to get through the day; I just thought he wanted to smudge like that.
For the two years, I still kept to my Mary Jane unless I needed to pass a u.a then I’d smoke spice for two weeks before switching back. I had no problems doing this. In February of 2015, I charged with possession of pot. I was put on probation and had to quit the weed. By then I was so mentally used to smoking every day as much as I wanted that I didn’t wanna give up my “unwind.”
It was at the time that none of the stores had it, and people were starting to make the crap themselves. I got a bag (homemade) and took one hit. That was it. The high I felt was thrilling. At first, I’d only take a hit every few hours, and that’s all I needed. My tolerance grew, and I found myself spending more and more on it.
Every morning, I’d goes into the store and buy eight packs of blunts (16 In total) and smoked them every day. I didn’t see a problem. I was getting up in the middle of the night almost every hour to smoke. I was losing weight; I couldn’t do anything without Spice, I needed it to feel normal.
I could barely eat, and nothing gave me pleasure. One day, I was staying the night with my mom and ran out of my fix, she caught me in the bathroom trying to pick it out of the rug (don’t ask me why she doesn’t smoke the shit lol). I’d been smoking the shit for five months straight now.
That morning I realized that I was slowly killing myself. My lungs were filled with mucus and every time I tried to cough it up I felt like I was going to drown. My lips were starting to turn orange from the resin that I kept trying to smoke even though it was long gone.
That was when I looked up at her with tears in my eyes pleading for help. The withdrawal was hell, and when I say that, I mean a living hell hot and cold sweats, shaking, insomnia, Vomiting, diarrhea. I just wanted to disappear. I felt like I had been hit by a truck & was so weak and felt like I was floating everywhere.
I was the walking dead. I had lost 8 lbs in 4 days, thought I was going to die. My amazing mother got my through it, being a nurse she was able to get iv fluids and nausea meds for at night. Without her, I don’t know if I’d even be here today for about a week, I never left her sight. I felt so helpless and worthless and a failure. My life felt like it was ending, my anxiety and depression shot through the roof.
I had to find reasons to live every day. Don’t ask me because my stupid self doesn’t know why but about two months ago, my boyfriend (long term) and his cousin were smoking because they had to pass drug tests and I figured why not.
Of course, I was inhaling my pot and as the weeks went by I found myself smoking more and more spice every day and night, even to the point where I’d make it seem like I smoked less than I had. My boyfriend knew what was up. I didn’t even touch my weed anymore. My restless legs got worse, and had headaches.
One night our dealer was out, my withdrawals were just as horrible as before. My boyfriend of 4 years has been helping me through them. He had a long road with spice (half with me) but his withdrawals don’t have badly as mine, and he never turned into a “friend” when he ran out. But he saw what it was doing to me, slowly killing me.
Slowly changing me, wasting me away! All I thought about was my next high and making sure I could get it. Two days ago, I decided that for once and for all is going to beat this demon. I’ve only taken a handful of small hits (at night) since then so I could get some peace of mind and sleep.
It’s been two days, and I see the light, my cravings are almost gone. My body temp is elevated, and my anxiety and is on a new level and I think about suicide almost daily my body is numb, but I’m not floating anymore, light isn’t so sensitive, and I can actually begin to relax as the days go on I’m starting to enjoy the little things again, and getting my positivity back.
If I would have gone longer than two months smoking it before realizing that then my body was addicted again. The withdrawal would have been longer and worse. The sooner you stop the better. I decided to share my story because I don’t want anyone else to know that feeling and if they do, they are certainly not alone.
Like I thought at first the next time I think taking a hit would be harmless, I will remember the hell of withdrawal. I will remember my pain and some of if I will have to live with the rest of my life, my brain will never be the same. I will never be the same. And I’m scared to find out later down the road what health issues.
I’ll have because of it. I’m so glad I got out before I ended up in the hospital or even worse dead. I still don’t know where I’d be without support my boyfriend and my mom has been my angels through this, never would I have been able to do it alone.
If you are looking for things to help the withdrawals, something that help me are: playing with animals or kids, watching a lighthearted movie, go for a walk, take a bath, keep hydrated and eat as much as you can (won’t be much), take it one second at a time, the trick is to pass the time because 10 minutes will feel like 4 hours, keep the people that love you close because they are the only ones that will help you without judgment.
I don’t know what I would have done without them whatever you do, don’t do it alone! If you don’t have anyone, resort to the people on this site reading their stories over and over again has motivated me to fight my cravings. You are healthy and beautiful; you can do this.
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