Posted by Anonymous on 2016/07/29 under Uncategorized Overall I’m just frustrated with myself as a person. I shouldn’t be where I am and I take it for granted every-f***ing-day. So to recap, I kill myself (unsuccessfully), get found, wake up in hospital crippled. Oh s***, sorry, spoilers! Awh screw it, my left arm was f***ed. I enjoy sleeping with it under my head “arm pillow” style, where my head rests squarely in the center of my forearm. When I passed out, I did for 2-3 days and didn’t move a muscle the entire time. This had the effect (despite the pillow) of cutting off the bloodflow to my hand and killed off the nerves from my mid forearm up. As a bonus it also damaged the skin and left an open wound from the base of my thumb to 4 inches below my wrist bone, as wide as the arm. Thankfully the nerve damage kept this from hurting even in the slightest which was a blessing. Every doctor, including the 2 months of going to an orthopedist told me that it was permanent and to just deal with having a claw. Well, like most stories about doctors telling someone something severe, they were f***ing wrong. My hand regained full use and feeling with not one issue related to the nerve damage. Sadly the scarring still makes me look like I fisted a Tijuana whore with gonorrhea but thats what sleeves and pockets are for. After this, I struggled with continued drug abuse issues. Mainly the alpha-php, that s*** was all I could think about. Ended up with me losing my job after being on a 2 day stim bender, dosing eitzolam to passout and getting awoken a couple hours later to an alarm set to PM instead of AM. Not realizing the mistake and filled with the go juice called adrenaline I powered out of the door and onto the road. It didn’t take long for the eitzolam to take back over and I wrecked going around a corner in a residential neighborhood. While talking with the officers I managed to attack my own car with a jack handle, broke my own headlight and insisted that I was going to injure myself to the officer. This obviously lead to me heading straight to jail, and a situation i’ve never encountered in jail before: Nudity + immunity to verbal punishment. Normally if your in jail any form of idiocy gets countered with loud verbal correction, if you get placed in there for mental health reasons the rules are different. They wont say a word to you. This sounds like a hyperbole but I did the following (before the drugs wore off and I became self conscious) naked jumping jacks, sitting on an cell divider to present my uncovered junk more vividly, wrote on the window with my sandwitch (backwards too) “Give me pants” as I was simply provided with the “turtle shell” aka standard issue “self-harm” wear that doesn’t allow any part to be usable for suicide, along with numerous other anticts that I am sure are still talked about today amongst staff. Now thats about the only interesting part of this chapter of the story, so long story short a lucky phonecall to my parents house that only rang once before the phone was yanked out of my hand saved my ass from being stuck there for a couple weeks. The automatic recording that played describing the name of the jail was enough of a clue for my stepdad who answered to realize something was wrong. Now Im jobless and slowly losing my mind sitting at home, abusing whatever I could. Due to the price I was consuming MMB-CHMINACA mainly, this is a synthetic cannabinoid known for being active in submilligram amounts. Smoking a tiny bit in an electronic ciggarette allowed me to sleep 4-6 hours where I would wake up, let my dog outside, check her food, let her in, smoke some more and sleep another 4-6 hours. After some time I got a hookup on MXE an old favorite of mine and picked up a good quantity. Unbeknownst to me this was tainted with either a-php or something similar as I started to have my mind slip back into the f***ed up place it was in. During this fog one day my phone rings, its an old highschool friend Chuck Jones, sounding quite drunk. We talk for a while and he is concerned about me and wants to spend some time together but didn’t want to fly to the s***hole wyoming I lived in which was understandable. Turned out he was traveling with his boss for work and the boss offered to fly me to him and thats how I got a $20/hr job while high on chinese drugs accidentally. Thats not the point of this story, like I said I take every f***ing thing forgranted. I now sit in an expensive apartment, with a nice laptop all paid for by my job and yet I cant bring myself to actually do anything. Part of it is the fact I really have no business being where I am. My previous work was basic contractor duties, now I’m trying to build an educational social network within a wordpress environment. I’ve managed to flail around enough the last 7 months and get something mostly working but I am a fish out of water. Theres a point in learning a subject where you realize the fact you don’t know anything and I just hit that. Before I could blindly charge ahead because I… just didn’t know any better but now… I dont know, I just know if I continue down the path I’m going with the system itll cause it to fail/be wasted time but my knowledge isn’t existant enough to go down a non wordpress route. It took quite a bit of meth and several days of messing around to get a PREMADE ANGULAR 2 TEMPLATE to run on a f***ing AMI MEAN stack server. I mean for some people that would be impressive but to anyone that has been around systems more than 5 mins, this should be a simple process. Part of me tries to latch onto the fact I started with no knowledge, no mentor and no direction other than captcha triggering amounts of google searching (14-15 of em now). Despite that and despite the fact that I either spend every waking moment of the day working or every waking moment wanting to work but unable to from some imagined obstacle, I feel like I take this all forgranted. I only have to work 20-30 hours/2 weeks to just keep my position, have my roof/utilities paid, usually have food covered and I despite doing it. Maybe its the 260 hours of work related duties in 20 days that I billed, at most, 30 hours for. But most of this is doing raw research, and repeated server configurations/work. Its hard for me to see where the pay line is. F*** I dont know. Im a mess and cant keep anything straight anymore. I just know I go days without working. Have a bad attitude and feel like I take things forgranted. But maybe Im the one who is taking advantage of myself by not billing hours. I dont know. Thats why Im on some anonymous thing
First off I shouldn’t even be alive. I ended my life 12-12-14 via benzodiazepine overdose, consumed approx 500mg of flubromazolam which is roughly 2,000x the recommended dose. This was proceeded with an unknown amount of alpha-php, all that is known is that it was enough to trigger an “extreme” episode of amphetamine psychosis complete with hallucinating a door getting kicked in that physically threw me backwards (there isn’t a number I wouldn’t pay to see footage of this).
The reason for this was, well, nothing. Like most things in my pathetic life there was no thought behind it, it was simply a response to a situation that I was presently facing. I was in an self induced psychotic state from heavily overdosing on alpha-php, repeatedly, and knew that consuming a benzodiazepine would counteract the effects. I can still clearly remember looking at the baggie containing 1g of flubromazolam, my peripheral vision filled will horrific hallucinations of police coming from every possible shadow, thinking “I need to take this, I need to take this now. There is no possible way I can do that safely.” At this point I felt nails scrape down my leg, looking down I saw a uniformed arm clawing from the air register and made my decision. My right index finger, coated with saliva, plunged into the baggie of fluffy white flubromazolam and quickly was inserted into my mouth. I repeated this several times.
My brother says “let me help you with that” and straightens a piece of toast in my fingers….. A doctor is talking like one of charlie brown’s teachers…. I open my eyes and feel higher than a kite, like lying on a bed of pillows and hear “beep….. beep…. beep….” in the haze I look around and see the blurry makings of a hospital room, my vision being distorted from a mixture of drugs, incoherence and most of all, missing glasses. Turning to my right is a my stepfather, looking very worried. Seeing this confused me as he lives 1,000 miles away and is currently 4 feet to my right. Looking to my left I see my arm, its all wrapped up like a mummy and just my fingertips are sticking out of the wrapping. Thats when all of the pieces kind of snap into place and I realize that I’m in the hospital for an overdose. Just as I start to wonder why my arm is wrapped as it is, on cue a doctor strolls into the room. He starts to tell me about something or another and I interrupt him and ask about my arm.
Given the look he gave me when I asked the question it didn’t take much to figure that I hadn’t been asleep the entire time and most likely just emerged from a blackout. He c***ed up an eyebrow, rolled his eyes and exasperatedly gave me the cliff notes of the nature of my injury. “It’s a burn from laying on it.” “Nerve damage” “Permanent” were the only words I can remember him saying before he left the room. I ask my stepdad what day it is and he tells me its Wednesday. Realizing that 5 days had passed I asked how long had I been in the hospital and to tell me whats going on.
Tuesday when I no call/no show for the second day in a row at work my manager calls a coworker/good friend of mine and tells him that he is worried and to check on me. He first tried my front and back doors, knocking loudly and getting no response. Thankfully he used a cinderblock to climb up to my bathroom window, where he saw me laying in bed unresponsive. After pounding on the window and calling my name several times I came to enough to yell “help me”. Luckily we had worked together for long enough to have shared random stories like “my back door is usually unable to be opened because my washer walks and blocks it” and he remembered such facts. Using a large prybar (we were maintance men, dont judge) he got the door open and washer moved without issue and called an ambulance.
They say my kidneys were under 5% function and I would have been dead within the hour if it wasn’t for him.