Okay so you might find it remarkable in the worst of ways that a woman struggling with depression would, in a time of crisis, decide to take a cap of MDMA on her own and walked away not worse than before, but here we are.
Before we get to the nitty gritty, please- don't think this is an instruction. I am not telling you to do this. It's a dumb idea, I'm just a freak of nature. I can't tell you what to do, but if you're going to take my word for anything, please let it be that I don't think you should do this.
And with that, let us begin the story.
So, let me paint the scene. It's a tedious Friday at work, I have a cap at home from months ago (I don't mess with my neurochemistry on purpose, and was coming off SSRIs when I acquired it) that I have denied myself on multiple occasions. Funnily enough I only ever thought to take it when I was depressed, which I know is a dumb way to face my depression and thus was being very logical in my decision to not take it - or so I thought, but we'll get to that.
This particular Friday began with the news that Brisbane was going into another hard lockdown for 3 days at 6pm that day because the UK strain of COVID has been found in our area. Having been totally unprepared for this, my mind flittered to all the things I probably should have done before this news, including, but not limited to, buying groceries. A colleague then informs me that the grocery stores pretty much everywhere were flooded with people fighting to get mounds of toilet paper (three days, seriously what is wrong with your bowels) and anything else they can.
I spent the day also walking the line between actual work and taking personal calls for a family disaster happening behind the scenes, with all kinds of chaos happening personally.
We're sent home from work early and a friend gives me a lift.
I give the grocery store a miss and probably do nothing productive or helpful for several hours.
Then I remember the cap.
I contemplate how it would work when I meditate. "Ooh, that might be nice", I explore the concept further.
I text a friend.
"Reckon meditating on a cap will be fun?" - 7:47pm.
The response was encouraging to say the least, and that was all I needed to swallow the damn thing.
So then I decided I would read and journal while I waited for blast-off, probably 30-40 mins later I decide I should be just on the cusp of greatness so I shut my eyes, tell Siri to set a 30min timer and get ready for spiritual awakening.
Except that was entirely the opposite of what happened because my next text to said friend was the following:
"Either the cap sucked or I do, had a little bit of almost okay, but meditation still sucks" - 9:19pm.
So needless to say this was the point where I had lost hope, felt nothing, assumed either the cap had expired or I was entirely defective and went to bed.
At this point begin to drift off into my usual sleep, when finally, a sensation of something happening swells over my body. Am I going to throw up? Am I hungry?
Wait..
No.
I'm fucking high.
I open my eyes, realise I'm beaming, step out of bed and get comfy for the next however long in bliss.
According to the text message I sent the friend, this was at about 9:50pm.
There I am, smiling at my dark apartment, wrapped in blankies and sitting on a pile of down cushions on my ever so plush couch, ecstatic at how high I am.
The high itself was uneventful, nothing tremendous "came to me", no major spiritual revelations or major epiphanies, I was just high and loving it. Hell, I even forgot to meditate or listen to hyperpop while I was high.
As I watched the drugs wear off, began to settle into my skin again, and the feeling of me-ness that is sobriety increased, I was contented. Sweat and saliva came back so I knew that the night's festivities had surpassed and it was time, once again, for bed.
The next day I had honestly expected some post-pill depression. Some sluggishness, some throbbing headache, something. But after some water and my usual morning routine, albeit several hours later, I was perfectly fine.
My meditation was super pleasant.
I was able to sit, watch the pain, watch the thoughts, watch me wonder off, and be totally okay with it.
And this brings me back to the entire point of this post.
I don't know why I've had a lasting effect from that capsule of sticky brown stuff, but I've come out of that high feeling okay with myself and everything that happens.
That trip has helped me experience being, outside of doing, even if I didn't feel it while I was trying to refrain from chewing my face off.
My holiday to the clouds has helped me feel less trapped by the grounded earth-ness of real existence.
I don't know how long this will last, I'm not going to hold onto it or try and work to do it again or make it happen for longer, but I'm happy I've had this experience. I'm happy I am now able to look at most things and, if not in that exact moment then sometime later, say "this is okay".
It's not my job to change the world or solve everyone's problems. I'm literally just tasked with the job of observing. Witnessing.
This is simply an existence.
These are just experiences.
The human life is approximately 80 years long.
How many more of those precious minutes I've been given do I need to spend - nay, waste - on worrying about things that were always going to happen?
Enjoy this. Whatever this is.
No comments:
Post a Comment