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#opiate crisis
theexodvs · 2 years
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The War on Terror was a war of naked aggression, likely motivated by the Taliban’s attempts to destroy Afghanistan’s poppy supply.
“But 9/11!”
9/11 was not orchestrated by the Taliban. Bin Laden was never even in the Taliban, who offered to hand him over.
“We don’t negotiate with terrorists!”
Name one example of this meaningless aphorism used before 9/11. And explain why we collaborated with Hamas of Iraq and People's Mojahedin Organization of Iran under Bush’s watch.
“But Sharia!”
The Taliban governs based on Wahhabist principles. The international spread of Wahhabism, including to the founders and current leadership of the Taliban, has been funded by the House of Saud, who also administer Saudi Arabia based on Wahhabist principles. Life for the average person under the Taliban and under the Sauds was not substantially different in the early 2000s, but since Afghanistan is not as rich in oil and is landlocked, they could not afford the optics campaign and were not able to secure as strategic of alliances that had been undertaken by the House of Saud to make the world look the other way.
No, the reason why Bush attacked Afghanistan is because he was controlled by the opiate lobby in the US. Since Afghanistan has some of the largest known supplies of poppy seeds on Earth, keeping the flow of this supply stable was a high priority for the opiate lobby, and threatened by the Taliban’s intentions to destroy the poppy fields. The War on Terror would have happened in the absence of 9/11.
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logognostic · 1 year
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Good Morning Friends, yesterday I finished Part 2 in "My Fight with Fentanyl" where I go back in time through my Journals and walk you through my growing dependence on opiates, a 3rd Degree Felony Assault charge, my first treatment and detox, the birth of my daughter and the beginning of my foray into Oxys and harder drugs.
This is a look at how a person brought up in a good family without any terrible childhood trauma or other reasons that are commonly associated with addiction can find their way into the cycle that leads many to heroin and Fentanyl addiction.
Please share and subscribe my blog website, God Bless and Keep Shining
http://logognostic.com/2023/04/05/part-2-my-fight-with-fentanyl/
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tattedkaylaa · 21 days
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90 days sober from heavy fentanyl an meth use before photos down here 👇
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craycraybluejay · 6 months
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I love reading trip reports/listening to them like podcasts. They make me focus and think and wonder but I already do that. But they like. Focus my wonder on the endlessly fascinating subject of altered mental states and even the state of the universe itself
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saint-logan-makes-art · 6 months
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“Harm Reduction Kitty”
Public Health Campaign
Graphic Design
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opioidowykoneser · 6 months
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Wczoraj z braku oksykodonu już od kilku dni znowu zajebałem metkat i.v. rano 840 mg kodeiny później strzał z 2 paczek acataru i jeszcze łącznie dorzuciłem 3 paczki acataru, a po jedną paczkę poszedłem nawet o 23:30 do apteki całodobowej 30 min przed zamknięciem, więc w sumie już niecałodobowej, jak kiedyś, bo do 00:00 a przed snem dorzuciłem jeszcze 240 mg kodeiny i 100 mg hydroksyzyny.
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What Are Opioids, and Why Are They Dangerous?
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Opioids are a class of drugs that include prescription painkillers like oxycodone, hydrocodone, and fentanyl, as well as illegal drugs like heroin. They are highly effective in relieving pain but also carry significant risks.
Opioids bind to opioid receptors in the brain and body, blocking pain signals and producing a sense of euphoria. However, they also depress the central nervous system, leading to slowed breathing, sedation, and potential overdose.
Opioid misuse can quickly lead to dependence and addiction, as the body develops tolerance and requires higher doses to achieve the same effects. Overdosing on opioids can be fatal, suppressing respiration to the point of respiratory failure.
Opioid addiction can have devastating consequences on individuals, families, and communities, making it crucial to seek professional help and comprehensive treatment for opioid use disorders. Legacy Healing Center in Cincinnati, OH, is here to help.
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safershirts · 10 months
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Marijuana is safer than the Sacklers
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daltongraham · 10 months
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O Percocet
It's going to get interesting. My doc says she has to see me again if I want another perc prescription, because she thought I was taking 5-6 a month (NO, but I didn't debate her at the last visit) and is appalled that I've run out. So far this month I've had to take *some* perc (even as little as a half a pill) every day for debilitating abdominal pain. I have a box and a half of Belbuca left over from when I was in excrutiating back pain, and I can trundle along on that for a little while if she doesn't give me more perc (I bet she won't), but she won't prescribe Belbuca for me, says that's a pain doc thing, and I don't see the pain doc until October. So I may run out of Belbuca and have to switch to NSAIDs, which I am absolutely not supposed to take because of my kidney disease. Or, I guess, I could lie in bed and suffer in pain and cry out all day, too.
(Of course, going off the ozempic may fix all of this on its own. We'll see. So far today I'm fine; yesterday was a Bad Pain Day. *shrug* One never knows)
(Note that for months, I've written down Every Time I take 4 Tylenol or a 1/2 perc and why, so I've been able to make a monthly chart that shows every day how much perc I did or did not take, which is what she based her estimate on. Looking back, I guess the pain has been increasing.) (I also document 12 factors of my gut health on a half-hourly basis on a spreadsheet. FUN.)
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emily-in-crisis · 1 year
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kit 😭😭😭😭 they did you so dirty girl
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logognostic · 1 year
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My Fight with Fentynal : Part 1 – My Childhood
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A Silent Epidemic
The opioid crisis has been silently ravaging our society, transcending social, economic, and cultural barriers. Fentanyl, a powerful synthetic opioid, has made its way into the United States in alarming quantities, primarily due to lax border policies. As a result, the supply of illegal drugs has skyrocketed, and communities across the country have been left to grapple with the devastating consequences.
In 2019, 67,172 drug overdose deaths occurred in the United States. Just a year later, that number climbed to 83,558, marking a staggering 34.4% increase. Opioids were involved in 46,802 of those deaths, claiming over 69 percent of all drug overdose-related fatalities. From the low and middle class to the rich and famous, heroin has been wreaking havoc across the nation, leaving pain and destruction in its wake. Heroin is an equal opportunity executioner, indifferent to age, race, or sex.
Some of the most famous names from the past 50 years have succumbed to opiate abuse: Michael Jackson, Elvis, Prince, Heath Ledger, Marilyn Monroe, John Belushi, River Phoenix, Chris Farley, and Janis Joplin. These individuals represent just a fraction of the countless lives claimed by opiates and heroin overdoses.
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For over a decade, I have struggled with drug addiction. I have stared death in the face on multiple occasions, only to be revived by emergency first responders after suffering from a heroin overdose. It took me many years to identify the root causes of my addiction. Despite numerous treatments, methadone and suboxone programs, and twelve-step groups, I struggled to maintain my sobriety and live a life in recovery.
This memoir follows my journey through the depths of addiction and provides an in-depth look into the path that leads many to the doorstep of heroin dependency. This is my story of addiction. This is my life.
The Journey Begins
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A Glimpse into My Childhood
Growing up in a loving, middle-class family, my childhood was filled with laughter, sports, and unforgettable memories. Our home, situated on a beautiful lake, served as the perfect playground for a young and adventurous spirit like mine. From sunrise to sunset, my days were spent exploring the outdoors, swimming, fishing, and boating. My parents provided me with every opportunity to develop my interests and pursue my passions, and for that, I am eternally grateful.
As a child, I was eager to try out every sport available in my hometown. From football to baseball, karate, and hockey, I was determined to find my true passion. Eventually, it was hockey that captured my heart, and it became my sole focus throughout my childhood years.
The most pivotal person in my life during those formative years was undoubtedly my mother, Robyn. She was my biggest supporter, always standing up for me, even when she knew I was in the wrong. I recall one particular instance when I was caught playing with matches in the woods near our house. When confronted by a neighbor kid, my mother swiftly came to my defense, imparting a valuable lesson about loyalty and trust. This is just one of the countless examples of her unwavering love and support.
My mother was also instrumental in instilling a strong sense of faith and spirituality in our lives. She ensured that my brother and I attended our Catholic faith formation classes and ultimately received the sacrament of Confirmation. To me, my mother is nothing short of a saint – the best woman I have ever known.
As I reflect on my childhood, I realize how these early experiences have shaped the person I am today. The love and guidance of my family, my passion for sports, and my strong sense of faith have all played a significant role in my journey. In the chapters that follow, I will delve deeper into my story, exploring the challenges and triumphs that have led me to where I am today. Join me as I share my experiences, insights, and lessons learned along the way.
One of my earliest childhood memories dates back to when I was just three years old, and it’s a memory that has stayed with me throughout my life. At that time, I had developed a peculiar habit of shoplifting – specifically, stealing packs of gum from the local grocery store. My first transgression was met with a firm spanking from my dad, which, to my surprise, didn’t have the intended effect on me. Instead of learning my lesson, I found myself caught in the act again just a week later.
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Recognizing that a different approach was needed, my mom took matters into her own hands. With tears streaming down my face and cries of “I don’t want to go to jail,” she drove me to the police station. My heart raced as we entered the building, unsure of what lay ahead.
Inside the station, I was led to a police officer who took the time to sit down with me and discuss the importance of honesty and the consequences of stealing. He explained why stealing was wrong and the potential repercussions of continuing down that path. As a young child, this experience was both humbling and frightening. It was a stark reminder of the potential consequences of my actions.
Remarkably, that visit to the police station marked the end of my brief foray into kleptomania. The lesson I learned that day, coupled with my mother’s unwavering support and guidance, left an indelible mark on me. Looking back, I can appreciate how this early childhood memory helped shape my character and instill a strong sense of right and wrong in me.
My Father - Michael
As I continue my journey into the past, I want to introduce you to my father, a man with a great sense of humor and a caring heart, even if he didn’t always know how to express it. My dad was a unique character, someone who always seemed to be angry and yelling, often without reason. My mom bore the brunt of his outbursts, and I believe that many times, she intentionally took the heat to shield my brother and me from his wrath.
Growing up, I began to think that yelling was just a normal way to communicate, and that anger was an inherent part of life. This belief seeped into various aspects of my childhood, affecting my behavior and relationships with others. It wasn’t until much later in life that I understood how deeply this had impacted me.
My father’s affection and validation were often tied to our achievements and successes. Good grades in school, excelling in sports, or any other accomplishment became the currency of his approval. For my brother and me, this set the stage for a highly competitive and aggressive attitude. We constantly strove to perform well in order to feel valued by our father, which sometimes resulted in a relentless pursuit of perfection.
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One particular year, while hunting with my dad, I shot a wall-mounting 10-point white-tail buck, a memory that remains one of my favorites. My deer stand was situated along the railroad tracks bordering an old, unused farmer’s pasture. The stand was positioned on the edge of the pasture, between a small patch of woods and a soybean field on the other side.
As the sky began to darken during the evening hunt, I spotted a huge buck about 200 yards out, walking into the soybean field from the edge of the neighboring trees. Though the deer was on someone else’s property, it was a weekday, and nobody was hunting there. My dad had already given me the green light to take the shot if any big deer came out behind my stand, and this buck surely counted.
I propped my .308 pump-action Winchester rifle on my knee, lifting one leg onto the bench as I took aim. Through the scope, I could see the buck’s impressive rack, which made me incredibly excited. I might have missed the shot if it weren’t for the fact that I initially forgot to take off the safety. This near-miss forced me to take a deep breath and calm down enough to properly aim behind the buck’s shoulder, adjusting for the distance as it stood broadside to me. With an exhale, I squeezed the trigger and in all reality, I was shaky and freaking out, but I like to imagine the scene as something cool and cinematic, like a sniper scene from Saving Private Ryan. After I took the shot and the smoke cleared, I saw the deer drop immediately. I couldn’t help but scream out loud with excitement, using some rather colorful expressions.
I called my dad while he was in his own deer stand across the railroad tracks. Normally, I was supposed to wait until dark, but he had heard my shouting, and we decided to call an end to the hunt. My dad was even more excited than I was, and to this day, that experience remains one of my favorite memories from my childhood.
Looking back, I can see that my father’s behavior and communication style shaped me in both positive and negative ways. It fostered a strong work ethic and a drive to succeed, but it also instilled a sense of never being good enough. As I delve deeper into my past and the roots of my addiction, I hope to shed light on how these early influences set the stage for the challenges I would later face in life. In sharing my story, I hope to provide a better understanding of how childhood experiences can shape and mold us into the people we become, and how, by recognizing and confronting these influences, we can break free from the chains that hold us back.
My Brother Older Brother Junior
As a child, my relationship with my brother Junior was far from perfect. Junior who was four years older than me, had a more serious and quieter demeanor compared to my outgoing and lively personality. Our differences often led to conflicts and misunderstandings, creating a tense atmosphere in our household.
I believe that Junior sometimes held resentment towards me because I received a lot of attention from our family. Achievements in sports and academics earned me praise from our parents, and I think Junior may have felt that I had taken some of their love away from him when I was born.
Despite the constant bickering and arguments between us, there was an unspoken rule that we never punched each other in the face. Our fights typically involved punches to the arm or leg, and since Junior was always much bigger than me, I relied on stealth and speed to retaliate. For the most part, we couldn’t stand being around each other, and he absolutely despised it when I tried to hang out with his friends. I was rarely allowed to tag along when he spent time with his buddies.
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It seems that no matter how hard my parents tried, they were constantly disciplining me for one reason or another. Whether it was getting into fights at school or with my brother, or refusing to do my homework or even bring it home, I was a handful to say the least.
Looking back, our tumultuous relationship as children has shaped who we are today. We’ve learned to navigate our differences and appreciate the unique traits that each of us brings to the table. Although our bond was strained in our younger years, it has grown stronger with time, and we’ve come to understand that family is a priceless treasure we must always cherish.
One particular story that stands out is the time I tried to exact revenge on my brother by taping a thumbtack to the toilet seat. Unfortunately, my plan didn’t go as expected; instead of my brother being the victim, it was my father who fell prey to the prank. I was scolded and grounded, but over the years, this incident became one of the more humorous memories that my family loves to recount.
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My rebellious spirit seemed to be a part of my very nature, and my childhood was filled with these moments of mischief and defiance. In retrospect, these events may have been challenging for my parents, but they also provided invaluable lessons and helped shape the person I am today. As I continue to share my journey in this blog, I hope to explore how these experiences influenced not only my formative years but also my later struggles with addiction and the path to recovery.
Social Butterfly -Junior High School
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As I entered junior high, it became a pivotal time in my life, marking a period of transformation and self-discovery. Junior high school was a whole new experience, where I found myself navigating through the challenges of adolescence while trying to find my own identity. It was at this stage in my life that I became more aware of my own strengths and weaknesses, and it was also when I discovered a new passion: boxing.
When I turned twelve years old, I managed to persuade my parents to let me join a boxing gym. I had been inspired by the Rocky movies and dreamt of someday becoming a world champion boxer. Being naturally aggressive as a child, boxing provided me with the perfect outlet to channel my energy and aggression. This was when I began to associate affection and attention from others with my performance, both in and out of the ring.
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Training at the boxing gym, I started to develop my skills and eventually entered competition bouts. My dedication to the sport only grew stronger as I saw progress in my abilities. This newfound passion had a significant impact on my relationships, particularly with my father. Everywhere we went, he would proudly introduce me as his son, the boxer. His pride in my achievements filled me with a sense of accomplishment and validation.
As I continued through junior high, the lessons I learned from boxing began to shape other aspects of my life. It taught me discipline, perseverance, and the importance of setting goals. These lessons not only helped me excel in boxing but also contributed to my personal growth during those critical years of adolescence. The boxing ring became my sanctuary, where I learned to face my fears and push beyond my limits.
When looking through the lense of all that I know now, its easy to see how essential that period was in setting me down the path that led to the struggles to come but also got me through them and to where I am today. It was during those years that I discovered my passion for boxing and competition and experienced the joy of earning the pride and affection of my family and friends as they supported me through my competitions. As I grew older, I continued to carry these lessons with me good and bad, shaping my character and guiding me through the challenges of life that still occur for me often.
Finding my Tribe – Learning to Shine
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Life as a boxer brought with it a sense of accomplishment and the thrill of becoming good at something. Every training session, every bruise, and every bead of sweat contributed to my growth as a fighter. The boxing gym became my second home, and my fellow boxers, my extended family. Boxing tournaments became a weekend vacation for the family, one year we all stayed at a Resort up near one of the Native American Reservations close to the tournament I was competing in for the MN State Junior Olympic State Championship in 2001
I vividly recall a day, not too long after My Dad first started bringing me to the gym when he challenged me to make the other boy cry in the ring. It seemed like an odd request, but the promise of Dairy Queen ice cream every day for a week was too tempting to resist. That evening, as I faced my opponent in the ring, I mustered all my strength and determination. I pushed myself harder than ever before, landing powerful punches and relentlessly attacking.
Life as a boxer brought with it a sense of accomplishment and the thrill of becoming good at something. Every training session, every bruise, and every bead of sweat contributed to my growth as a fighter. The boxing gym became my second home, and my fellow boxers, my extended family. Boxing tournaments became a weekend vacation for the family, one year we all stayed at a Resort up near one of the Native American Reservations close to the tournament I was competing in for the MN State Junior Olympic State Championship in 2001
I vividly recall a day, not too long after My Dad first started bringing me to the gym when he challenged me to make the other boy cry in the ring. It seemed like an odd request, but the promise of Dairy Queen ice cream every day for a week was too tempting to resist. That evening, as I faced my opponent in the ring, I mustered all my strength and determination. I pushed myself harder than ever before, landing powerful punches and relentlessly attacking.
Life as a boxer brought with it a sense of accomplishment and the thrill of becoming good at something. Every training session, every bruise, and every bead of sweat contributed to my growth as a fighter. The boxing gym became my second home, and my fellow boxers, my extended family. Boxing tournaments became a weekend vacation for the family, one year we all stayed at a Resort up near one of the Native American Reservations close to the tournament I was competing in for the MN State Junior Olympic State Championship in 2001
I vividly recall a day, not too long after My Dad first started bringing me to the gym when he challenged me to make the other boy cry in the ring. It seemed like an odd request, but the promise of Dairy Queen ice cream every day for a week was too tempting to resist. That evening, as I faced my opponent in the ring, I mustered all my strength and determination. I pushed myself harder than ever before, landing powerful punches and relentlessly attacking.
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In the second round, the other boy’s defenses began to crumble, and he finally broke down in tears. I remember the triumphant look on my dad’s face as he laughed and cheered for me. That night, we went to Dairy Queen, and my dad’s laughter continued to echo in my ears.
As the years went by, that story became a favorite of my dad’s, something he would recount with great amusement. Though it may have seemed like just another anecdote, for me, it marked a turning point in my life as a boxer. It was the moment I truly realized I had become good at something, and the powerful feeling of accomplishment that came with it fueled my passion that summer to keep getting better, it drove me to keep improving and move on to compete with some of the greatest teenage athletes in the country.
As my journey continued, I began to see the impact of my dedication and hard work on my relationships and social life. The more I competed and won fights, the more positive attention I received from my friends and peers at school and family friends. It was exhilarating, the feeling that my success in the ring brought a newfound sense of respect and admiration from those around me was a feeling I began to fight for. (No Pun intended)
By the time I was in eighth grade, I had won the Junior Olympic State title two years in a row, a feat that was proudly featured in the local newspaper. My achievements in Ring not only bolstered my confidence but also earned me a reputation even outside of school as the tough kid that won the State Championship at the MN Junior Olympics—the one nobody wanted to mess with. I soaked it all in and it would’t be too long before I learned one of the best ways to find humility. A Good Ass Whooping!
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This newfound status drew the attention of what I considered “the cool crowd.” These were the kids who had an air of confidence and charisma, and they seemed to be the epicenter of all things happening at school in our small suburban universe. Being invited to parties was always something I looked forward to and I took a lot of joy in being included to make plans with alot of the guys I played Hockey with as well as a group of us that had been going to school together for years. If I had to classify our click in those years, it was the Stoners, before they started smoking Weed.
During grades 7-9th which was considered Jr High back then, I continued to play hockey as well as train at the Boxing gym and found a really good group of guys on my Hockey team that I would play with all the way through high school. One of my fondest memories from that period was a tournament that my team participated in, where I was fortunate enough to play some of the best games of my life.
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That weekend, I truly felt like I was on top of the world. We took home the first-place championship that year, and I managed to pull off two shutouts, meaning that during two whole games, I didn’t allow the opposing team to score any goals. As the captain of my team, I felt immense pride as I skated out to collect our trophy.
I can still vividly recall the song “We Are the Champions” by Queen blaring across the ice from a hockey mom who had brought a boombox to the event. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and as we got off the ice that day, I received my first-ever standing ovation from the people in our section of the crowd.
The attention I received that day reinforced my belief that when I performed well, people liked me. My identity was becoming increasingly intertwined with this notion that as long as I excelled at things, I would be accepted by others. Looking back, I now recognize that this mindset was not entirely healthy, as it led me to place a significant amount of pressure on myself to constantly succeed.
However, despite the challenges that this mindset posed, I am grateful for the experiences and memories that my junior high school years provided. The lessons I learned during that time have stayed with me throughout my life, reminding me of the importance of perseverance, hard work, and self-belief.
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As I navigated the sometimes-tumultuous waters of adolescence, the successes and challenges of my junior high school years shaped me into the person I am today. It was during this time that I joined some extra activities at school, doing Peer Leaders / Student Council, as well as the Video Broadcasting team. Those activities planted seeds that fueled passions that would continue to grow and bloom later on in life in ways that I never could have imagined. They taught me that while it’s important to strive for excellence, true self-worth comes from within and should never be dependent on the approval of others.
As my popularity grew during my teenage years, I began to attract the attention of some of the girls in my school. For the first time in my life, I started dating and going out with girls. Being a young teenager in the midst of puberty, I found myself in situations with teenage girls that, quite frankly, I wasn’t ready for. Even with my newfound popularity, girls still terrified me.
Picture before my 9th Grade Freshman Formal School Dance
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It was around this time that I discovered alcohol and began getting drunk with my friends. I didn’t realize it back then, but looking back now, I can see that even at that young age, I was beginning to develop habits that would grow into something much more serious in the years to follow.
As I navigated the complexities of dating and relationships, I found that alcohol provided a temporary escape from the pressures and insecurities I faced. What started as innocent teenage fun and experimentation soon began to evolve into a coping mechanism for dealing with the challenges of adolescence.
In hindsight, I wish I had recognized the warning signs of my unhealthy habits and sought help or guidance from someone I trusted. The combination of alcohol and the pressure to maintain my popularity made it difficult for me to develop healthy relationships and make responsible choices during my teenage years.
I recall a memory from the summer after my eighth-grade year when my friend Benny and I decided to push our limits with alcohol. It was a night that would teach us a harsh lesson about the consequences of our actions.
I had stolen a liter of Windsor Canadian whiskey from my parents’ liquor cabinet, and we waited until they went to sleep before pouring ourselves two large glasses mixed with a splash of soda. Within ten minutes, we had finished our drinks and sat down in the living room to watch a movie, unaware of how the alcohol would soon overwhelm us.
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When my brother came home about a half-hour later, he immediately sensed that something was wrong. As I tried to deny our intoxication, Benny suddenly began to vomit all over himself and the couch. He slurred his words and drifted in and out of consciousness.
My brother, realizing the severity of the situation, ran to wake up our parents. They were completely unprepared for the scene that awaited them in the living room. As Benny choked on his vomit and I struggled to function, my dad instructed my mom to call 9-1-1. I finally admitted that we had drunk the Windsor whiskey from the cabinet.
The look of horror on my dad’s face as he saw the nearly empty bottle, which had been full and unopened just hours before, is something I will never forget. That night changed my perspective on alcohol and made me realize the potential dangers of pushing the limits. It was a wake-up call and a lesson that has stayed with me to this day.
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That night was a pivitol moment for both Benny and I and it was also a turning point in my life. As I looked around our house, it was swarming with paramedics, first responders, and police officers. They were all there because of the dangerous situation we had created for ourselves.
I was escorted to the bathroom and told to sit by the toilet while the EMTs worked on stabilizing Benny in the living room. I can still hear his screams as they tried to insert a tube into his trachea, ultimately using a paralyzing agent to keep him from struggling and to ensure he continued breathing. We were both rushed to the hospital in separate ambulances, and Benny had to have his stomach pumped.
For the rest of that summer, I wasn’t allowed to leave the house, and it took months before Benny and I could hang out again. Just weeks after the incident, I developed shingles on half of my face. The doctors attributed the outbreak to the trauma and stress from that fateful night. The pain was unbearable, and my face felt like it was on fire.
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At the time, I thought I was being punished by God for getting drunk and that I deserved the pain. Looking back, I don’t believe that was the case. However, I do think that God was trying to warn me about the dangers of drugs and alcohol. Unfortunately, I didn’t learn from that hard-earned lesson.
I often wonder how different my life could have been if I had never touched drugs or alcohol again after that night. But I believe that God can turn all things to the good for those who serve him. And now, I use my experiences to help others avoid making the same mistakes I did.
In my teenage years, I experienced the harsh consequences of multiple head injuries and a couple of major concussions from boxing. The emotional, mental, and physical effects of these injuries were significant. I began to feel the toll of boxing on my body and mind. Every day, my father would push me to go to the gym, and I would come home with a pounding migraine headache from the beatings I endured.
It’s worth Mentioning that Boxing runs in my blood and has a history on my Dads’ side, My Great-Great Grandmother, on his side moved the the US in the early 1900’s From Catanzaro, Calabria at the Southern Tip of Italy. One of my uncles used to explain where Calabria is by saying that it’s the tip of the boot that kicks the Sicilians in the ass. 4 of my Great-Uncles were Boxers and one of them was the Upper Midwest Golden Gloves Champion in 1939.
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As the pain and exhaustion increased, my passion for boxing and confidence in my abilities started to decline. I couldn’t help but wonder who I was without boxing. What would my life be like without it? I feared losing all my friends and the social status I had gained through my success in the ring.
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Brody was the kind of boxer who wanted everyone in the gym to know just how good he was, which made sparring with him an unpleasant experience. My worst concussion happened during a match with him. At that time, I was better than ever before, but Brody’s skill and experience still far surpassed mine. One day, I landed a hard punch on him, which seemed to infuriate him. In response, he unleashed his fury and beat me mercilessly. I can’t recall if I left the ring before the bell rang or if one of the coaches stopped the match, but I stumbled to the back of the gym, my head pounding and eyes barely open.
Eventually, my dad realized that my distress was more than just the disappointment of losing. He rushed me to the ER for a brain scan. Sitting in the waiting room, I felt nauseous, and every heave into the garbage can intensified the excruciating pain in my head. My vision was also affected, with spots appearing wherever I focused my eyes. When I tried to read the paperwork I had to complete, I discovered that I couldn’t identify the words even though they looked familiar. The gap in my vision prevented me from processing the letters into coherent words. That was a terrifying moment for me, as I didn’t know if I would be stuck with these symptoms permanently or if they would have long-lasting effects on my life.
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After a CT scan, the doctors informed me and my parents that I had “contusions on my brain,” which essentially meant bruising and scar tissue from prolonged trauma to my head. That was when my mom stepped in and told my dad that he couldn’t force me to go to the boxing gym anymore. That was the turning point in my life. From then on, I chose to chase popularity and partying as a high schooler, leaving my boxing days behind. For a little while anyway
Identity Crisis
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My confidence was utterly shattered after that last beating at the boxing gym. I felt humiliated every time someone asked me when my next boxing match would be, as if I had completely lost my identity. I struggled to regain my sense of self during the last years of junior high, trying to find a new passion that could fill the void left by boxing.
When I turned 16, my parents helped me buy my first car, a 1989 Lincoln Town Car. With its leather seats and blue rag top, I thought I was the epitome of cool. Being one of the few people in my group of friends with their own vehicle, I found myself gravitating towards a new crowd – the “stoners.” Smoking weed became a daily habit for me, as I sought to fit in and regain the sense of identity that I had lost.
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I would pick up some of my friends in my car, and we would drive around for hours, smoking and feeling free from the pressures of our teenage lives. Little did I know that this new lifestyle would not only fail to replace the confidence and self-worth I had found in boxing, but it would also lead me down a path filled with its own unique set of challenges and struggles.
As I reflect on these pivotal moments in my life, I realize the importance of finding a healthy and sustainable way to build one’s identity and self-worth. While boxing brought me recognition and popularity, it also took a toll on my physical and emotional health. On the other hand, my newfound lifestyle of chasing popularity through partying and substance use only served to further erode my sense of self. In the end, I learned that true identity and confidence come from within, and that it’s crucial to find a balance between our passions and the desire for external validation.
High School Years - New Friends & New Experiences
As I entered into High School I found myself meeting new people and building a new social circle
where I wanted to feel accepted and valued. As I began my sophomore year, I was eager to make new friends and create new experiences, and I had a very ambitious and energetic outlook about my life. I got along well with most groups of people around school, never getting into may fights, mostly my boxing reputation from Junior High helped keep people wary of starting fights with me. Smoking Weed became more and more common in my daily life as I began to become friends with others that also smoked and like to party.
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t was during this time that a group of three men in their mid twenties and one in his thirties moved into my neighborhood, right across the street from my parents’ house. Their names were Randall, Kevin, Fred and Mitch ; Randall owned a Window and Door Installation Company and the rest of the guys all lived with him in the house across the street and worked for his construction company They Worked together, Lived together, and Partied together, It was the ultimate bachelor lifestyle to my adolescence eyes.
One night, they threw a huge party, and I decided to go over and introduce myself. To my delight, I discovered that they all smoked weed too. They welcomed me with open arms, and before long, I found myself hanging out at their house, smoking weed every day after school. They treated me like an adult, and I reveled in the sense of acceptance and camaraderie that I found among them and their friends. There were many nights where I would walk across the street to go hang out and gamble in one of the Cash Poker games that we used to have every weekend; it was a good feeling to feel accepted by an older group of Men that had what I perceived to be “Cool” qualities at the time.
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Every weekend seemed to be filled with parties, attractive girls, and good times. This new social circle provided me with the sense of belonging and validation that I had been craving since leaving boxing behind. It felt like I had finally found my place, a group of people who accepted me for who I was, and with whom I could enjoy life without the pressures of being a young, competitive athlete.
However, as I continued to spend more time with this new crowd, I soon realized that there were risks and consequences to this new lifestyle. But for the moment, I was just grateful to have found a place where I felt like I belonged.
Thank you for following along so far and I appreciate the feedback and please feel free to like, share and follow me along as I continue to on with Part 2 next time.
Until next time, Keep Shining Friends!
Nicholas Patrick
Follow me on Twitter or Wordpress @logognostic
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tattedkaylaa · 26 days
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Heavy carfentanyl & meth addict. Now 90 days sober 🤙
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pregnant-and-addicted · 3 months
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~PLEASE FOLLOW ME TO SUPPORT ME AND TO STAY UPDATED WITH HOW MY CRISIS UNFOLDS! I WILL FOLLOW YOU BACK~
So basically, everything is as screwed up now as it could possibly be and at this rate I'm set to lose my son to CPS, but I'm not going to let that happen which means I'm going to have to take some drastic steps here in the next week, all while praying that I can stay out of preterm labor because I've begun having symptoms of upcoming labor and I've only got a mere 30ish days remaining. My methadone program has utterly refused to help out with getting me stabilized and off of the illicit substances, and today I put in one final attempt at getting them to help me via appealing to them one last time by asking that they please allow me to get my dosage raised high enough, to around 100mgs, that it will allow me to begin to rapidly and safely decrease my opioid dosage and achieve a clean test before I end up going into labor, but if this does not end up being possible, I have a small amount of Methadone that I've saved up to combine with the 65mgs that I'm currently on now, for the first three days, while discontinuing Fentanyl, and even though it still probably won't be enough and I will be experiencing some symptoms of withdrawal, I will just bite the bullet and put up with it. The one thing I'm waiting for is for a new RX of Xanax to go through either on the 14th or 19th, as I will need this medication, along with probably Gabapentin, which I'm pretty certain I can get a prescription for, I should be able to endure the withdrawal and succeed in achieving a clean test before having to go into labor... Fingers crossed. Hopefully though, I will find out on Monday though that my Methadone clinic is finally willing to take my circumstances seriously and begin allowing me a clinically relevant dose of Methadone on Monday. I am not hopeful nor expecting to receive anything from them though to be honest, but we will see what happens.
The other order of business is the state of affairs in my apartment, which I have let become an unbearably huge mess so extreme that you can barely even get my front door open at present! This will NEVER in a million years pass any kind of home inspection that may be required by CPS, let alone is there any space to build an area for the baby and get all the required necessities together. My mom is going to help me afford everything that I need for him, but first I've got to get this total mess cleaned up. I am committed to doing it and my baby's dad is living here with me and is equally committed to getting this mess fixed up... I'm beginning on this TONIGHT and I hope to finish it over this same night as its only 600sq ft in here, but achieving any success in this endeavor tonight will be a success as it may end up taking more than a day or two to get finished up. I have gotten it fixed up before in only a day's time for the purpose of a manager inspection. I need to get this done BEFORE having to go into withdrawal though or I will be too sick to get it done. So this must begin tonight! I will take before and after pictures at the beginning and end of this project...
I am absolutely COMMITTED to doing what I have to do to become part of the >1% of drug addicts who manage to do what everyone says isn't possible for them. I know everyone is expecting me to fail in my endeavor but I will prove them all wrong. I want to keep my son and be a good mother to him and I'll do whatever is necessary to make that happen.
If by some stroke of bad luck he does begin to come early and I end up with a positive test and CPS has to get involved, I have family members who are willing and capable of taking him for the time necessary that it would take to get their requirements completed and in that case I will go ahead with whatever I have to do to regain custody but I am keeping the faith that it won't come to that and that I've still got just barely enough time...
Pray for me and wish me luck, I am going to need it!
--Pregnant & Addicted
~PLEASE FOLLOW ME TO SUPPORT ME AND TO STAY UPDATED WITH HOW MY CRISIS UNFOLDS! I WILL FOLLOW YOU BACK~
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jojokillah · 7 months
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10th Anniversary
Copium
When internet people joke about copium, like "you need more copium" I actually think about opium and mainly opiates which are derivatives of opium. Because I needed a lot of copium for years.
I thought I will never be free from it. Keep in mind, this is THE DRUG, the hardest drug all movies are about. Basketball Diaries, Trainspotting and such. The shit superstars shot up in the 80's. I talk about all of them. Fentanyl, Heroin, Morphine, Methadone, Oxys, Norcos, Roxys, Vicodins, Percocets, Somas, Tramadol, Doreta, Kratom. The last 3 are especially common in my country, been and still being addicted to them. The whole family. My blog turned 10 years old 2 days ago, but I was too dopesick to put anything here. This was my 4th attempt to kick opiates for good. I kicked Tramadol and Kratom not so long ago, but relapsed. A thing I thought was impossible after all that suffering I went through. Rehab, Psych ward, inpatient, being kicked out for drinking on Xanax and popping additional Klonopin 2's to ease the wds, the cold turkey home. 3 weeks of Hell. But somebody was waiting for me. Somebody who visited me in the hospital, visited me home. My ex fiancé. I got my life back, then I lost it again. I lost it for good this time. It will never come back. I kicked Alcohol and Xanax many times, being in the worst delirium a human can imagine. Literally dying, after I survived a massive Xanax overdose, then left without any, hallucinating in life threatening seizures, then hallucinating for 2 months. It sure took it's toll on me, like my first time kicking dope. Popping 10-20 Klonopin 2's, drinking a liter of whiskey daily on top of it. This shit never ends. Relapsing to opiates, then benzos follow, alongside with alcohol. Today would have been the 3rd day of another streak of an opiate cold turkey. But I couldn't take it anymore. I barely have Xans now, and I don't really think I will have a refill again. As a teen, as a massive k2 fiend and alcoholic, when I started this whole bullshit blog, never ever could foresee how deep will I sink into this hellish nightmare of addiction.
Today I broke the streak, had some dope. Much dope. The last bag I had, without a possible way to obtain more. Just to cope with all of it. The breakup, the depression, the internal damage in my receptors from all these years, the lost years, the sight of this disgusting village I got trapped in since my first draw of weed at 15. The poverty, the shame, the madness, the sadness, the anhedonia, the defeat.
Xanax was not enough to shut up the whole madness in my head. And I had a good dose of that too. I'm depressed on dope. I don't fear dopesickness anymore, because I can't escape. I just accept the additional pain and suffering. Unimaginable suffering ahead. It doesn't really worth it to be honest. Not even dope can shut my inner pain up. It is screaming in terror. Not regressing into childhood anymore, not being positive and grateful anymore. It's lost, it's dead. All I hear is the scream, before falling off a cliff.
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survivalstory · 10 months
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I am so excited to say I hosted my first Na meeting today that’s a huge deal To me coming from we’re I came from but I made a promise to my self that if I survive this I am going to be of service to anyone that needs my help or hit rock bottom and any who will listen
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The Ohio Opioid Epidemic: Understanding the Crisis and Finding Long-Term Solutions
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The Ohio opioid epidemic has been a pressing issue, highlighting the devastating impact of opioid addiction on communities. Ohio has been particularly affected, with high rates of opioid-related deaths and overdoses.
The crisis stems from the over prescription of opioid pain medications, leading to widespread misuse and addiction. Many individuals who initially became addicted to prescription opioids turned to illicit substances like heroin and fentanyl, which are cheaper and more accessible.
The Ohio government has implemented various measures to combat the epidemic, including improving access to addiction treatment, increasing naloxone distribution, and implementing prescription drug monitoring programs. Education and prevention efforts have also been crucial in raising awareness about the risks of opioids.
Long-term solutions require a comprehensive approach, including expanding access to evidence-based treatment, addressing the root causes of addiction, and promoting alternatives to opioids for pain management. By addressing the Ohio opioid epidemic through multifaceted strategies, it is possible to reduce overdose rates, save lives, and support individuals in their journey toward recovery. Learn more how Legacy Healing Center in Cincinnati can help.
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