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senior-sem-thesis-draft · 3 years

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On April 14, 2020, I wrote:

i hate reality which is why i do drugs lol

Back then, and for most of my life, the reality I inhabited was not pleasant. It was no wonder I wanted to escape from it so frequently with such drastic methods.

My reality was generated by the framework of my mental state- I was fully immersed in the toxic narrative of my traumatized ego and I held everything it told me as the absolute truth. If I thought I was ugly, my face and body appeared grotesque. If I thought my teacher was singling me out for punishment, I was being unjustly targeted. If I thought my friends were mad at me, nobody liked or cared about me. And so on- my experiences were constructed from my unerringly critical and pessimistic worldview.

Since I was younger, I’d always been fascinated with states of altered consciousness. But I didn’t really get into doing drugs until my forced leave of absence in 2017 after I tried to kill myself and ended up in the ICU. During my leave, I didn’t have the structure of school to keep me busy, so I turned to other things.

Substance use became a coping mechanism- a method of indulging escapism- but also eventually, a tool for healing.

I would insufflate a stimulant to get something done. It made whatever activity I was doing more rewarding and engaging. Or I would ingest a dissociative and withdraw into the depths of my own dazed mind, leaving my physical body behind for up to a couple hours. I would smoke cigarettes and vape. I would use entheogens and psychedelics when attending EDM shows. I would pop pharmaceutical benzodiazepines and opiates to cope with my perpetual state of anxiety and despair.

I grew to adore getting fucked up. I loved the precarious feeling of free-fall, the way my heart vibrated in my chest when I was on the cusp of being not okay. I wasn’t ever scared because I wanted to be dead, anyway. In those fleeting moments, I was able to let go of both my corporal form and thinking mind. I eagerly leaned into the overpowering sensations, which came naturally since I was always looking for a distraction from existing. I was truly free, if only temporarily. Once I came back down, I desperately wanted to lose control again.

I think I hit my rock bottom, or one of them, when a breakdown triggered me to take two bars of Xanax and finish the bottle of soju I had in the fridge. I don’t remember what set me off, but I was so incredibly upset. I felt completely hollow yet brimming with guilt, rage, and shame. Even with the high dose of sedatives, I couldn’t stop myself from smashing the bottle on a table. My former partner came over to clean up the broken glass everywhere. Then, I would’ve called it pathetic, but I now feel overwhelming compassion for my past self- she was going through so much. I understand intimately how distressed she was and how she was incapable of coping with her illness in a healthy way.

But it wasn’t just the intense highs I chased. I smoked daily, multiple times a day, during more than a few periods of my life. It was such a quick, effortless, and reliable fix- it would unfailingly make me feel better when I was sad, which was very often. Because I was always able to distract myself with weed, I never felt the need to address the root cause of my negative emotions.

I was somewhat aware that it was an issue, but I would rationalize my use because I was still functional and getting good grades. In fact, I would smoke before doing schoolwork when I was upset, because the subsequent mood boost was enough to get me out of bed and to my desk. But frequent use resulted in unavoidable consequences.

I lost my ambition and drive, since all I wanted to do was go back home and smoke. I put in the bare minimum to ace my classes. I grew comfortable in my painful reality and accepted my profoundly depressing life as it was. I constantly overate, overslept, and woke up feeling groggy and numb. I cherished the social aspect of weed, but in hindsight I was always awkward and never fully present. I became more forgetful, and my ability to focus waned. Eventually it grew to amplify my fear of abandonment, causing more conflict in my interpersonal relationships. Even my physical injuries started hurting more when I was high.

Despite all this, I didn’t stop. It was just too comforting and easy.

There were other aspects of substances that became meaningful to me. At some point, it developed into more than a way to distract myself. As a naturally curious person, I became enthralled with pharmacological pathways, harm reduction, and purity-testing reagents. I became friends with other drug lovers. I grew to appreciate the ritual of it all.

Most importantly, I started respecting psychedelics and intentionally using them to change my mindset and heal from my traumas. Thanks to the lessons I learned from them, I was able to rely less and less on substances to numb my feelings and escape reality. Psychedelics initiated my shift from trauma conditioning, survival mode, and self-sabotage to becoming consciously aware of patterns and developing the ability to non-judgmentally respond to thoughts, emotions, and situations.

I was forced to stop smoking when I came to Korea last year because it’s illegal there. The cloudiness of my mind gradually dissipated, and my attention span returned- I didn’t have to rely on stims during time crunches in the semester anymore.

I quit my very frequent nicotine use because it is shown to inhibit wound healing. (My knees, wrist, back, etc. were all injured from lifting.) Surprisingly, quitting was not that hard once I began to actively value my body and prioritize healing my injuries instead of chasing the buzz I barely even felt anymore. One day, I just put my vape down and never picked it up again. I decided to cut alcohol from my life- I was never a fan.

Now, I have a much healthier relationship with substances. I don't compulsively smoke weed or do any other drugs to numb my feelings anymore. After addressing the root cause of my addictions, I am able to enjoy drugs rather than depending on them to escape a painful reality.

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