As soon as you start working, you start to realize how terrifying it really is to grow up. Being on my own working has scared the shit out of me, to be honest. Working 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, I feel like I’m wasting so much of my time. I feel like this is sucking my soul away and I don’t want to have to do this shit forever JUST TO SURVIVE. No matter what you do, you can’t stay at home forever. You can’t just not work. You must be employed and you must push forward. I don’t know how my parents did this shit. I really don’t. I can’t think about this too long or it gives me anxiety attacks. I just feel like such a drone. 8 hours every day 5 days every week every month every year. Same shit every day too. I know I should be thankful to have a job. I am. I really am. But the idea of doing this bullshit every day for the rest of my life is fucking awful. It’s like prison. I can’t afford school. I absolutely can NOT miss work. I can’t just not go. Then I can’t pay my rent or my bills or buy groceries. There’s no mercy with this grown up shit. How does anyone support OTHER people?
I know this is just the beginning and I don’t have the best job, but really, it doesn’t seem like it’s ever going to get better. Most people get stuck being a drone in the 9-5 and their heart is dead. I’m getting more and more bitter and time goes by faster and faster the longer I’m sitting here at this fucking desk. I’m bored at work. I’m great at my job, there’s just never anything to fucking do, so I have to sit here and do nothing. I get paid $10 an hour to do fucking NOTHING. It’s hard to feel like I should be here when I don’t even feel needed. There is literally no stress here. No pressure. Nothing to really give me the will to want to move forward. So I sit here stagnant. But why? What the fuck am I working toward? What’s the point? Paying rent fucking blows. Bills are the most horrible thing ever. I hate having to squeak by from paycheck to paycheck like this. If I really want something, I have to work overtime to be able to afford it.
13-17 year old piss me the fuck off. They says shit like, “I CANT WAIT TIL IM 18 IM GONNA MOVE OUT AND I HATE MY PARENTS AND FUCK THIS PLACE AND I’LL GO OUT WHENEVER I WANT AND WEH WEH WEH WEH” fuck. you. Fuck you. You shut the fuck up right now. You have NO idea what you are talking about. Do you have any idea how much a power bill is? How about groceries? Have you ever paid for groceries, trying to make them last 2 weeks, til the next payday? Stay with your family as long as you can. RESPECT THEM. You are an expensive little shit and you’re being an ungrateful twat. It’s a big, mean, scary fucking world out there and you are nowhere NEAR mature enough to fucking deal with it. It doesn’t fucking stop for you because you’re having a hard day. The world doesn’t give a shit, and neither do your bills. There is NO excuse when you’re an adult. You get 2 paid sick days from work, IF YOU’RE LUCKY, and that’s. fucking. it.
Enjoy your youth and lack of responsibilities. You have absolutely no idea how wonderful that is until it’s gone.
So, this morning, I broke the news to my dad about going to EDC. The phone call was pretty hilarious. He and his replacement family have been planning on going to California to go to Disneyland, and he wanted me to come with them. He just couldn’t give me the days he was going. He didn’t even know them. But today he calls to let me know what they are.
“We’ll be going the 7th through the 17th.”
And I’m like, “Uhhh…. I’ve got… other plans. I can’t go with you..”
“Augh! That stupid Electric Daisy thing!? You’re REALLY going to go to that?!”
“Yep. Room’s booked, ticket is bought. Can’t back out now.”
“You could make money if you tried to sell your ticket isn’t it sold out?”
“I’m going, dad.. Don’t try to find a way to talk me out of it. It’s not going to happen, and I don’t want to be on the phone that long.”
He started getting mad at this point, trying to find something to pick at me for that I haven’t done lately. “Well. I need your car insurance payment for this month!”
“I’m registering my car this week. I can pay you on Friday when I get paid.”
“Well. Okay.” I could practically HEAR him pouting.
Lol. Nice way to wake up. Feels kinda nice being a grown up now. Now that I don’t live under his roof, I genuinely AM free. Turning 18 doesn’t mean you can just tell your parents to fuck off. Nope. If you still live under their roof, and they still feed and clothe you, sorry. You’re not independent. Fuck, I’m not even independent. I live with my grandparents. He just can’t say much because I don’t live under his rules any more. It just irritates me when 15-17 year olds are like, “WHEN I TURN 18 I’M GONNA TELL MY PARENTS NO AND I’M GONNA LEAVE AND THIS IS BULLSHIT AND WEH WEH WEH.”… I even used to say it. Moving out and being self sufficient is a lot harder than you guys think. There are a lot of expenses that you don’t even think about having to pay.
I can understand though. I mean, given things that are SO AWFUL about your parents usually turn out to be for the best later. I mean, if you’re wanting to leave because your mom won’t let you stay out past 11, then that’s just silly. If it something more serious like physical abuse, get the fuck outta there now.
But honestly. Turning 18 doesn’t mean you have the ultimate freedom now. It means you can buy dry ice and cigarettes in most places. You can’t even buy cigarettes in Utah at 18. Unless you’re paying for everything yourself, and you aren’t getting help from ANYONE, turning 18 doesn’t mean anything. You’re just another year older, living with your parents, respecting their rules because they let you live there for free. That’s the way it should be.
I don’t pay rent living with my grandparents, but I do work for them sometimes. I’ll do dishes, clean up the kitchen, or do yard work or whatever else they may ask me to to do from day to day. My friends have asked if they pay me to do all these chores, and I’m like, “Fuck no they don’t, and I wouldn’t let them.” I live here for FREE. I was kicked out and in a bad situation, and they chose to let me stay here. I’m gonna do whatever they ask me to. It should be the same way with your parents.
I just can’t stand the bitching about this topic, and kids thinking they’ll be magically SUCH HOT SHIT at soon as they turn 18. You 15-17 year olds are SO. LUCKY. You have it SO great. There are some families who will kick their kids out TO THE STREET this young.. So what if your mom takes away your phone if you got in trouble? I’m like, 90% sure she’s the one paying for it for you.. And if she’s not, well, you live there free.
Lol this turned into something way different. I’m okay with that.
I wrapped presents with my mom, and we did a lot of talking.. Earlier today was weird, because she took me to to church with her. I hadn’t been to church in more than a year. I was raised in the mormon church, and mormons in Utah are like fucking Shiite mormons. It’s unbelievable.. but then out here in Nebraska, they are SO much different. Not as strict, not as nosy, and the congregation was waaaay smaller. More kids in it than adults.. But one thing is for sure, my mom wants me to move out here with her, and she made is VERY clear in front of everyone there… So not only was I hearing from her how “wonderful” it is here, everyone else was chiming in too. Strangers.. y’know? Kinda had me uncomfortable.. But anyway. Tonight was good. We watched a bunch of shows on TLC and just talked and showed each other internet shit. I showed her what decoden was, because she had a bag full of the little flat cutesy things to stick on there. She bought them to make bows, but the minute I saw them, I pulled up decoden on Etsy, and she thought it was a WAY better idea.. So she showed me the ebay person who she bought her little pieces from, and I guess she might try it now or something. I’m liking her husband, Steve more and more. He’s a really nice guy.. Just really shy and it’s hard to get him to come out of his shell, but little by little, he’s creeping out. According to my mom, he really likes me.. It makes him sad that my family back in Utah doesn’t want to do much for me any more. He was amazed when I said that I didn’t even have a proper heavy winter coat. Just hoodies. But that’s really all I need.. I don’t do much outside, but anyway.. My mom was telling me that he was sad that I needed so much. My parents back at home don’t really buy me clothes any more. I get a gift card here and there for birthdays and Christmas. The last thing my dad bought me was a $30 gift card to Kohl’s, and I used that all up for my one and only pair of decent jeans, and a gift card to Victoria’s secret because the only nice bra I had was losing its wires. My dad isn’t poor. Not at all.. My dad’s just tired of babying me, and he’s pushing for me to grow up. So it really makes sense, but I guess my mom and Steve don’t agree with it. If they want to buy me stuff, cool, whatever, I’ll take it. But I’m not asking… She told me she wanted to know what I wanted for Christmas.. So, first, I wrote a little list of stuff that was like, NECESSARY. Socks, underwear, clothes, hair ties, etc. And she handed it back to me and told me and said that was all stuff that was like, a GIVEN. So then I gave her the big wish list that I wrote at home of like, ALLLL the stuff I wanted.. I have shit on there like, iPad, Nintendo DS3, Skyrim, A Kinect, Camera, EDC ticket, New phone, cash, gift cards.. All that shit. It was like, my big wishlist, and when I gave it to her, I said specifically, “I do not expect ANY of this.” and I really don’t. It’s all so expensive, and I’d feel like an asshole if I got any of it. This is the first time I’ve seen her for more than a couple hours at a time in like, 2 or 3 years now.. That, and she’s helped me SO much with other things.. I dunno though.. It’d be nice to get like, spoiled.. I haven’t had anyone buy me an assload of presents since I was a kid, but I guess that just happens as you get older. Last year, I got Scrapbook stuff. I don’t even scrapbook and the stuff has sat in my closet all this time.. The year before that, the biggest thing I got was probably my Nightmare Before Christmas Monopoly game… I bet it still has its plastic wrap on it too. I don’t play monopoly… I dunno. Christmas has just gotten more and more depressing since my parents split. It used to be a happy time where EVERYONE got together, but the last few years, it’s just been shit. People I hardly know are there.. It all feels forced and really tense, and I have to make good impressions. This year is just gonna be dramatic. My siblings and my mom are fighting. Neither of them will speak to her, but there is a good reason with it… It’s just not going to get resolved for a while. I keep trying to teach my mom to just say, “fuck it.” at them. Like me… When people are mad at me, I just stop giving a shit and move on with my life. She doesn’t work like that.. She can’t like, process that her kids will be back. They’ll get sick of being upset with her and they’ll just forget about it.. and in the meantime, she just needs to learn how to not let it phase her. It worked for a little while, but she misses her grandkids so much.. Today’s my niece’s 6th birthday, and my sister’s not even letting my mom have contact with her to wish her a happy birthday. It’s shitty.. I know my sister’s reasoning, but at the very least, for my sake, she could lay off the anti-mom act for the holidays.. Just so I can have a nice Christmas with her, and not have to spend it listening to her cry over how her kids don’t love her any more.. That’s what this visit has been so far. I’ve just been the crying shoulder for her, and it sucks.. But oh well. Christmas. Yay.
I don’t know how people involved with this want to be referred to, so I’ll just address everyone in it by the first letter of their name.
I always thought I was being smart with my drug use. I looked up every pill on pillreports before I took it, I drank my water, I knew my limits, and I took my vitamins. I was always good about keeping things in moderation until November 2010 came around. I don’t blame anyone but myself for what happened. I did have quite a few enabling factors, but that doesn’t change the fact that my choices are my own to make. Anyway, November was when I started getting really wild with my partying. It was every weekend… No… Anytime I could get out of the house, really. I was rolling whenever I could, drinking quite a bit too. This went on for a couple weeks.. But then the rave, Naughty Or Nice found its way into my plans. My dad knew I was going. I had him convinced that I wasn’t a fan of drugs or alcohol, and I played it off REALLY Well. He’d accused me of it before, but if I was ever confronted on it, I just would cry for him and he’d leave me alone about it. Anyway. For Naughty or Nice, everything was going to be perfect. I’d already bought my pills, 4 red Macs/apples. I had a place to stay after it was over. It was T’s house, there would probably be an afterparty. My outfit was great, everything was good.
So we got there, everything was fine, I met up with friends we danced, took our pills, etc. But then right around like, an hour or two before the event ended, L and I decided we wanted to stay fucked up for the rest of the night, because I didn’t have to drive home for once. So we scrounged around, trying to find a dealer to buy more from… We eventually found one, and we bought 2 pills each. Orange supermans. Here’s where I went wrong. I didn’t look them up, I didn’t ask anyone about them, and I didn’t give a flying fuck. I took both of them right then and there. I was already fucked up. I didn’t care.
After a little while, I was starting to feel the 2 new pills kicking in, but something just didn’t feel right. I was having these odd, tripped out thoughts. Something felt wrong, I felt like I was out of my head or something just wasn’t right at the event. I was okay at this point, but I just felt odd… The event ended, and we all filed into T’s car to go back to her place. The trippy thoughts still stayed with me, and all my friends were reassuring me that everything was okay, but it still just wasn’t right. We got back to T’s house D and Na were there waiting. I told them how I was feeling and we all kind of went into their room just to hang out. L kept pulling me to get me alone, he wanted me to lie down so we could have sex or something.. Anyway. Na was kind of experienced with this sort of stuff, so I laid down next to D on the floor and held her hand while Na gave me a light show. I was okay at that point. The lights made sense, but as soon he stopped, it wasn’t so great again.
It was almost 4:20 AM, and of course, my weedy friends wanted to go outside to smoke. D told me to come with. She later told me that the weed would just make me want to go to sleep. L still wanted me to come to bed right then so we could have sex, but I really did NOT want to. Anyway, I went out with my friends to smoke. I’d never smoked out of a bong before.. I had some assistance from Ni and Na, and when I took my hit, I went into this MASSIVE coughing fit. I had to sit down, I almost puked, and that didn’t help my already tripped out situation… I’d had enough, so I went back inside to go lay down with L. When I got in there, I was completely fogged. Nothing made sense. I almost couldn’t talk. When I laid down, he started touching on me of course, and one thing led to another, and before I knew it we were having sex… But I didn’t feel right with it. I remember thinking, “What the fuck is he doing to me?” “Why is he doing this? I don’t want this.” It wasn’t a rape, but still, I didn’t feel right… But out of nowhere, I felt like I had to pee. I told him I had to go, he let me out, frustrated of course…
I got to the bathroom, sat on the toilet, waited for the flow.. And I don’t know how it happened, but somehow, everything went black. I felt myself shake a bit, and then it all just stopped. I was conscious inside my head still though.. I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn’t. I tried to move my body, but I couldn’t. I tried to scream, but I couldn’t. I could feel my fingers getting cold. After some time panicking in my head, I heard people knocking on the bathroom door, asking me if I was okay. I tried to answer, but again, I couldn’t move anything… Eventually they pushed the door open and found me. D screamed, Na freaked, T and L were both already crying. I heard them trying to bring me back to life with CPR, and I tried to push through for them… This whole time, I could hear T on the phone, calling an ambulance. I could feel my body growing stiffer and colder. My lips pressed together hard. I felt all the air in my body get pressed out, and I felt flat, hard, cold, compressed… It’s difficult to explain.. I felt like I’d pushed all the air out of my body, but then I felt as if my torso were being crushed to not let any air back in. My friends were sobbing, checking my pulse, I heard L screaming my name. D was freaking the fuck out too. Eventually I heard the rescue crew arrive. I felt them try to bring me back as well. I felt tubes being jammed down my throat, needles poking me. I heard them check to see if my pupils would still dilate, but I couldn’t see them shine the light. Of course, inside my head I was panicked beyond all reason.. I felt them load me up in the ambulance and take me away. I heard them pronounce me dead in the hospital. I heard my father identify my body. I felt the cold in the refrigerated drawers. I felt them remove my organs. I heard them prepare my body for a funeral. I heard my father cry. I felt my viewing/wake, I felt everyone hold my hands, touch my face, tell me goodbye.. I heard my beautiful funeral service, and I heard everyone speak at it. Then I heard them put me in the ground, and then it was silent, and it was just me with my own thoughts.
I remember thinking “Holy shit I’m dying I’m dead I’m dying I’m dead I’m dead I’m dead I’m dead I’m dead” Panicking, but I noticed, each time I said it, “I’m dead. I’m dead.” it got easier. Comfortable. “I’m dead.” And as soon as I was okay with it, “I’m dead.” It was over. There was a flash, a sinking, falling feeling, and some strange, high pitched sound I can’t describe, and it was over. It was like dreamless sleep. My limbs stiff and cold, my eyes stitched shut, but it was peaceful. Just silent. Nothing. I don’t know how much time had passed when out of the silence, I heard something.. Something sad. Something horribly, horribly, sad. I heard crying. I heard screaming and wailing, people screaming my name. I recognized a few voices. I heard D, I heard L, I heard my father, but I couldn’t recognize any of the others. It was torture. I heard nothing but crying screams and sobs, but then I heard a loud BANG, like a gun, and L’s voice stopped.
After that, something clicked, and I felt everything RUSH back into my body, as I awoke SCREAMING on the bathroom floor. I got right up, looked at my phone, and only minutes had passed. I felt that weeks had gone by. I looked in the mirror, my face was still there, I was standing, looking at my LIVING flesh. I ran to the room where L was, and I yelled, panicked out of my skull, “I DIED. I KNOW THAT I DIED.” and he looked at me so strange. I thought maybe he didn’t hear me, so I said it again, “I DIED. I THINK I’M DEAD.” And I proceeded to tell him about my death, babbling, and sputtering it out through tears. It probably didn’t make any sense, and he looked worried. He took me back to the bathroom and started putting cold water on my face, trying to calm me down, when suddenly that sinking feeling hit again, and it took me to my knees. I Screamed bloody murder and tried my best to hold onto L while he tried to calm me down. Nothing was working. He started pouring cups of cold water down my back, still nothing.
I don’t know how many of you have ever had a bad trip on a hallucinogen, but when you have one, sometimes it can go into a loop. The same bad trip will happen over, and over and over again til the drug wears off, or you can grip on some sort of reality.
Also, I’ve noticed with ecstasy, it will enhance whatever emotion you’re feeling the most at that moment. Most of the time, it’s joy, or love. In my case, it was enhancing FEAR. Bone chilling, complete fear.
Anyway, he kept trying to chill me out, and I was caught in a loop now. Having the death-trip over and over and over and over. There was no way out of it. He got my clothes off of me, and he got me in for a cold shower. By now, everyone in the house knew about what was happening, due to my screaming, and pacing around the house wildly. I had it in my head, that if I just kept moving, I wouldn’t die. I’d know I was alive, but nothing worked. I felt like I was in hell. I thought that hell was re-living your death over and over and over again, trying to save yourself, but never succeeding. I thought I was crazy, I thought I’d be running from death forever.
L tried to get me to vomit. Taking me in the bathroom, pushing his finger in my throat. I freaked out, thought I would choke… died again. Duh.
I thought I could dillute everything with water. I guzzled down some, but then I though, “Oh no, I’ll overhydrate myself.” and I “died” again.
By this point, I had EVERYONE worried because about an hour had gone by, and I hadn’t improved at all. D and Na went to the store to get me some 5-htp, but I guess they never found it. I was begging to go to a hospital. I had some sort of grip on reality, because I could tell that it was a loop, and I knew that no matter what I did, it was going to keep happening again unless I got help for it. I figured it out, but it wasn’t any less terrifying, because I would still DIE and have the whole death shit happen each time.. After some talking and debating, T and L got me dressed and took me to the hospital. I remember pacing in the waiting room, still dying, still freaking out. I had no problem giving them my information to get me checked in. They hooked me up to a heart monitor, and my heart was RACING. I remember the doctor who took care of me was very nice. I told her everything that happened, and she took some blood tests. We discovered that I had a SHITLOAD of amphetamine in my system. That means that the pills I took were METH BOMBS. Orange supermans. METH BOMBS. DO NOT TAKE THEM.
She hooked me up to an IV, and she gave me a double dose of their strongest sedative. I remember asking L to take me to pee a couple times, but after that, nothing. As I was zoning out on the sedatives, I was still having the death trip, just not as strong. I could feel myself getting better.
Apparently, I walked out of the hospital, but I don’t even remember leaving.. We got back to T’s house at about 8 AM, and I have this really faint memory of Na sitting in the bedroom with me, talking to me and keeping an eye on me while L had a cigarette.. L says I never went to sleep, but I remember kind of waking up at about 11 AM or so. I woke up crying, and I remember he just held me there. I asked if we could go watch a happy movie, and he practically had to carry me down the stairs to the TV because I was so doped out… I cried all through Horton Hears a Who, but then I remember Ni wanted to watch Inception after.. I couldn’t handle it, so L took me back upstairs. It was then that I called my dad to let him know what happened, and that I wouldn’t be back home for another day or so. The doctor at the hospital ordered that I stay with my friends, because they’d know how to handle me if I freaked out again. I was lucky. He didn’t yell at me. He seemed very understanding, but just very disappointed in me..
Anyway.. The next couple days were hard.. I didn’t sleep at all. I was all full of meth and sedatives… Nothing made sense still, and I was very depressed. I couldn’t be alone…
When I finally went home, my dad was out of town. My stepmom was home though. I sat with her and told her everything that I’d been through, and she cried and hugged me. It was then that I realized how close to dying that I really was. I figure that that whole time I spent “dead” on the bathroom floor, I think I had some sort of a seizure, or I really did DIE, but only for a moment.. The OD still haunted me for weeks. I couldn’t go to sleep at night without some sort of movie on the TV, or something. To this day, being in complete darkness will give me a panic attack.
At first, I thought I would never rave again. I didn’t even like electronic music for the first little while. My kandi disgusted me, my fluffies were gross… I just wanted anything rave related out of my life.. But things are different now. I have raved since then, and I have rolled since then. You don’t stop driving your car just because you get bugs on your windshield. I’ve gotten a lot more careful about what I take, even more so than I was before the OD. I’m still wildly in love with the rave scene. If it wasn’t where I was supposed to be, then I probably would have stayed away after I got hurt.
But I learned from this… NEVER. EVER. EVER. Take pills without looking up what’s in them. Pillreports.com is there for a REASON. The exact pills I took had a report about them, and the report said that they were BAD, and that they were tweek pills. Other people had experiences similar to mine in the comments.
This OD was also the exact kick in the ass that I needed… I’d gotten out of control with my drug use and partying. My dad grounded me from EVERYTHING until I got my GED, and in February, I did just that. I learned and I grew from this. I cherish my life, and I love every minute of it. You never know when you could die. You never know what kind of loose ends you’re gonna leave behind, and you have no idea how much you are loved.
On a side note, one of the headliners for that rave was Rank1. That’s why LED Let There Be Light is such a special song. Every second of it reminds me of that night, but it reminds me that I LIVED, and that I’m ALIVE, and that my life is beautiful. Go listen. I hope it changes you, after reading this.