It’s been almost two years since I ended the long, off and on the struggle I had with spice (we called it K2 in our area).
I was first introduced to it when my boyfriend brought it home from the gas station down the road. Back then, it had just come out and honestly was nothing like the stuff out there now.
This first time, I had no withdrawal at all.I would not be so lucky in the times that followed.
I picked it back up a couple of years later when I was looking to change jobs and had to pass a drug screen.
For a while, I was functional. It wasn’t until I quit my job, cashed out my 401k (about $5000 at that time), and broke up with a boyfriend so I could focus all my attention on laying in bed, taking on my one hitter all day and all night, that I even realized that I wasn’t smoking synthetic marijuana.
I was smoking chemicals that were altering my reality, taking away any motivation for anything other than smoking it.
My supplying smoke shop was a good hour and fifteen-minute round trip, and I made that trip at least every other day. My best friend and her partner moved in with me at this time, and we were like one big zombie-fied family.
We had run out of my 401k cash out after a few weeks and decided the only logical way to make enough money to support ourselves and our habit would be to build profiles on those sketch “arrangement” sites.
We thought we would just get paid to go to dinner and a promise of “maybe more ;).” This quickly turned into straight up escorting.
Let me stop right now and say if someone would have told me I would sell myself for a few bags of potpourri; I would have thought they were the ones on drugs.
But it happened. I’m still sorting through those memories. Don’t do it.
We were now going to the smoke shop every day, and we were always one of the customers waiting for the shop to open at 10 am to get our day’s bag.
We had at least 20 one hitters around the house in varying stages of resin build up. If we ran out before we had more money or the shop was open, we’d scrape every smoking utensil clean and smoke the nasty resin.
We were coughing up black phlegm. We were vomiting throughout the day when we didn’t smoke frequently enough (after a nap, in the morning, going to bed, etc.).
We all would wake up every 30 minutes throughout the night just to take a hit to go back to sleep.
Then the catalyst for my decision to change happened.
I stole my mother’s jewelry box. She knew exactly who was to blame. She filed a police report, but let me know that she would not press charge if I would just come home.
A mother’s love knows no boundaries. I stole and pawned some of her most precious possessions, and she is trying to keep me out of trouble for it.
I immediately realized how weak I had sunk in those moments. I did go home.
I puked my brains out for a week, couldn’t even hold water down. I couldn’t sleep for five days. My skin went numb for three days. I looked pale and waxy; my face didn’t even look like it was me.
Now, writing this was tough for me to acknowledge the evil things I did. Reading this, you may think that I must be this person to have acted this way.
This drug turned me into the opposite of what I once was. I am still not the same. My reward sensors are dull; that’s how it feels. I feel like even after two years, I have a lot of healing left to do.
I would advise anyone with this nasty addiction to quit. It’s hard. Get away from anyone smoking it. But not quitting will inevitably ruin your life. People notice your glassy eyes and bizarre behavior.
Your life is too valuable to waste it taking hits of spice every half hour and picking your carpet apart for crumbs. There is a better life, and it starts by quitting this awful drug.