Oxycodone & Opiate Addiction! How I found the strength to beat one of the worst addictions known to man.
Oxycodon 30mg instant release pills otherwise known by users and addicts as "Blues" or "Blueberries"
this world there is always people like me that nobody sees so nobody has the chance to cry out and say "stop your killing yourself", when in all reality people like me just live under the false assumption that nobody ever cared in the first place.
What the hell did I have to lose, nothing or everything, the positive or negative. I had already bled through the snow beneath my feet. Suddenly everything became so clear to me today, we were always sleazy in the night. And as soon as I allow myself to heal I will run far away, or just start swinging.
In my head I can hear the voices crying, beneath my sanity they are begging me for it. Quickly, without a seconds hesitation I am on my way to try to quench their endless thirst. Never settle, just keep learning I remind myself.
In this circus we call life people beg me for this strange medicine. It has got hold of me, I just don't know it yet. In a world where all hope seems lost I can no longer find myself, so I medicate to dull the pain.
My fate is no longer in my own hands, I must find a way to feed the Mother of all needs, addiction. I will run those closest to me off, or grab hold of them and cling on for dear life. I tell myself this might just feed the Mother of all needs, then I whisper to myself "Someone please save me, I am lost".
By Brett Foster
Following my horrible experiences with lawyers, and being unable to cope with the fact that as far as I was concerned I had let my father, my mother and my two brothers down, by letting myself be taken advantage of, the beginning of the next two years of my life would be the most self destructive I had ever lived. I had never experienced anything like this, nor did I ever expect to, through all the blood sweat and tears I put into handling my father’s estate over the previous six months all I had to show for it was a $110,000.00 gap in the estate account I had set up for me and my brothers. My older brother Matthew lived in Colorado so he was unable to help me with the affairs concerning my father’s estate, in order for him to do so he would need to move back to Florida with me in Tallahassee. My younger brother Bevon was four years younger than me, and there was no way in hell I was about to place that burden on him, he had finally started college himself, and the rigors of that challenge alone can be extremely overwhelming.
After my father passed away me and my three brothers inherited the stunning house he had designed and had built only a mere seven years earlier, it was on the second hole of a gorgeous golf course, in a beautiful upper class neighborhood in my lovely town. My mom and brothers thought it would be a good idea for me to move into it since no one was living there. It was a gorgeous 3700 square foot house, and even better it had been paid off, so there was no mortgage, and I would not have to worry about the hassle caused by continuous leases, steep rent, and unstable roommates, so "what the hell I thought, I will go live out in super-suburbia with all of Tallahassee’s elite." My father’s house was gorgeous inside as well as outside. I had lived there for a few months and I know I should have been ecstatic at the fact that I was lucky enough to have that enormous, and extravagant bachelor’s pad all to myself, but there was a growing emptiness inside of me I just could not seem to shake.
I would sit alone on the sofa at night in the houses’ massive living room and could not escape the memories of when I first arrived at that very house the fateful night I got the horrible news that Rock had passed away. I could remember every intricate detail, and no matter how fast I tried to run or where it tried to hide I could not find a way to escape from my inner demons, they were growing inside of me, tormenting me. The master bedroom was technically my bedroom now and it had all my belongings in it, but I had given up on trying to sleep on the enormous bed in it, haunted by memories of my father, the Christmas eve when he started to hallucinate, called the sheriffs and got Baker Acted. For the first month or two I tried to make it work, night after night I would go into that enormous bedroom and crawl into bed, but something just felt horribly wrong, I would wake up paralyzed by horrible nightmares, I missed my father terribly, and was consumed with guilt for letting life’s scavengers get the better of me.
Before I knew it the sofa in the living room had become my new bed, and the massive 50 inch TV in the middle of the room had become my night light. As each week passed the hole inside of me was growing larger, I felt a horrible emptiness deep within my soul suffocating everything about me that had made me the fun loving person all my friends new and loved. I had a job bartending at a nearby sports bar and every night I would go to work with a smile on my face, and as far as anyone could see I seemed fine. I would hang out with my friends and act as if nothing was wrong. I locked up the growing despair and anxiety deep inside my heart and threw away the key. Those closest to me never had a clue as to how much I really was hurting, and to the naked eye I seemed ok, when in all reality I was slowly drowning and not even I knew it, Psalms 116:3 "The sorrows of death compassed me, and the pains of hell gat hold upon me: I found trouble and sorrow."
The guilt and the shame hung over me like a dark cloud , I was alone and wondered "why is it so hard to find someone in this world that cares about you when it is so easy to find someone who is willing to chastise, and look down on you the second you finally break down and come un-raveled." "Why is it so hard to find that unique soul that can keep it together for you, when you can no longer grasp on to the reality of what is taking place all around you, in the very world which was once the safe blanket you once so snuggly and proudly wrapped yourself in, simply to feel the beautiful warmth created by it touching every part of your body slowly cease to exist and fade into a deep, penetrating cold that touches your very bones." I could not escape this horrible feeling, it had taken over me, and no matter how fast I continued to try and run from it, I could not escape from it, it was all around me, suffocating me, it would chase me down in the pouring rain, forcing me to prove to my family and friends that things are not what they seem, and though at first glance I appeared to be just fine, I was anything but ok. The air I breathed had turned cold and empty, and I would prove to them that in this world there is always people like me that nobody sees so nobody has the chance to cry out "stop your killing yourself", when in all reality people like me just live under the false assumption that nobody ever cared in the first place.
I continued to go to work just as I had done every night, week after week, depressed, and unable to cope with the new horrible realities of life. Finally a guy I worked with offered me a few oxycodone 5mg pills saying "here try these they will make your night fly by, no stress at all, trust me they are awesome for work." What the hell did I have to lose, I was at work, hating life, stressed out just waiting for the night to end so I could go home crawl onto my sofa and watch TV until my eyes started to bleed, or until I actually fell asleep. So I grabbed those pills from him, quickly popped two of them into my mouth and chased them down with some Pepsi. From the moment they began to set in for the first time suddenly all the anxiety, hate, and hell I had felt almost non-stop for months quickly began to dissipate from inside of me, the horrible burden on my shoulders quickly seemed as though it was fading into this drugs wonderful spell and had disappeared, the first time I tried taking oxycodone I immediately fell in love with this amazing new drug, I was already hooked and didn’t even know it after just trying it one time I had already become addicted to one of the most horrible drugs ever to be made by man, and now its venom was underneath my skin, but I thought to myself "I can’t afford to care", those words still haunt me to this very day.
My addiction to painkillers would quickly teach me that life is pain, and no drug can eliminate that fact, you must endure to live, and to live is to endure pain. I quickly found multiple people who sold these magical pills, or at least that is what I thought they were. I would joke around saying "lets play a little game called getting addicted to painkillers", little did I know that what I thought was a game in fact was a no-bull crap harsh reality that I would quickly wake up and find b*tch slapping me straight in my arrogant, naïve face. I quickly went from taking 5 to 10mg at a time to taking 60 to 90mg at a time just so I could get my fix, before I knew it I was eating 300 to 500mg a day worth of oxy and Oxycodone, my tolerance for this horrible drug had become ridiculous almost overnight, and I was paying for it "literally". I had inherited over $100,000.00 when my father had passed away and my addiction to these pills would cause me to blow through that money in a period of no less than 12 months. No wonder my drug dealers talked to me as if I was there best friends, I was paying their bills, I was there top client, there number one customer.
Every night as soon as I got home I would grab three or four of these 30mg blue beauties and shove them into my mouth, swallow them and wait for the warm effects of their magical compounds to completely overwhelm every sensation throughout my entire body both physically and mentally, and save me from the stress and anxiety I had become too much of a coward to continue to cope with on my own, without the help of the drugs. When I finally did realize "Holy crap man! You are spending a ton of money on these pills, if you don’t stop soon you are going to hit rock bottom and find yourself left penniless" it was already too late. I never knew what it was to be truly addicted to a drug, but now I would find out. First I thought I simply could just stop taking these horrible little mother f*ckers and I would be just fine. I only started taking them two months prior, no way I was addicted already, "yeah f*cking rite!", I was Johnny crack head on the spot, I just hadn’t given myself the chance to realize this for myself, up until this point. I would withdraw hardcore from opiates for my first time, and I found out when you withdraw from the magical wonder drug known as, oxy, you withdraw like a mother *ucker for a long, long time. It was time for me to reap the hideous whirl wind of the horrendous side effects of opiate addiction!
The first time I discovered "Brett you are *ucked" when I realized I was in a state of complete opiate withdrawals was an utter nightmare. I woke up smelling repulsive, soaking wet as a result of the cold sweats I had been experiencing throughout the entire night, in a complete and total state of pure misery and exhaustion, and with the worst case of explosive diarrhea I had ever experienced in my life. I somehow managed to drag myself out of my bead like a dying animal, and slowly crawled into my shower, where I laid under the running water for the next hour in a pathetic attempt at bathing myself without as much as really moving a muscle or ever even standing up. I looked like week old road kill on a busy road that had been ran over by every automobile possible, I was miserable and all I could think was "I got to get my hands on some oxy asap!"
That was the first time I realized I was screwed, and discovered the withdraw life for this particular drug was 72 hours to a week, 72 hours to a week of being screwed! I mean that, when you hit a state of total opiate withdraws you are not doing crap, for me to even attempt to get up off the sofa and feed myself seemed like too much work for me to do. In order for me to continue to function on a daily bases like some form of a normal human being now I had to have this drug, I was at its mercy, it had me by the balls, or else I was doomed to withdraw for at least a week and more than likely not sleep for sh*t for another two weeks following that. Before I had the chance to even wonder if "hmmm maybe I should stop taking these because they might be habit forming", I, in fact had already become totally and utterly dependant on the drug known as oxy, how the hell do doctors actually prescribe crap like this to people.
So I called my usual connections, and of course they were happy as hell to hear from me, now that I am clean I have since come to find out I was referred to as the money man in the underground world of prescription drug sales, and quickly was on my way to pick up a new stash of pain killers in order to get my next fix and escape the horrible state of withdrawal I had found myself in. For the next several months I tried everything I possibly could to release myself from the chains of opiate addiction, every time to come crashing back down to the harsh reality of failure and to the fact that without some form of serious intervention there would be no possible way that, I, on my own would never be able to free myself of my opiate addiction. I would stop taking the pills, and valiantly suffer for a week or maybe even two weeks, going night after night without as much as one minute of real, actual sleep, each and every time only to eventually mentally break down and seek out this drug like a frenzied crack head just so I could experience one day where I did not feel my skin burning, my head pounding, and I could actually sleep for four to eight hours.
After roughly 8 months and over $100000 later of being totally addicted to opiates I finally came to terms with my inescapable plight, and called my mother to tell her, "mom I am addicted to pain killers and I severally need help", she had no idea, but in all reality it was my deep dark secret and no one really knew exactly how addicted I truly was for that matter. My mom is a brave and beautiful woman, and before I had the chance to explain myself, finally help was on the way. I had already done the research and knew exactly where I wanted to go, I had discovered a place called "Florida Detox" in Tarpon Springs, Florida that specialized in a rapid detoxification process created for people who were suffering from opiate addiction. I had no desire whatsoever to go to the traditional 30 day rehab facility, the ones I had seen my father go to in vain where they would let people like me arrive only to shake and bake for the first week or two, and suffer without mercy from my withdrawal symptoms.
I had done my homework on Florida Detox, before I knew it I was at their hospital sitting in one of their beds getting ready to be detoxified, hallelujah! As I watched the anesthesia creep slowly towards its final destination, me, and was observing all the knick knacks and other devices hooked up to monitor me while I was knocked out for the rapid detoxification procedure, I looked over at the 19 year old kid laying in the hospital bed next to me who was being prepared to go through the same procedure and said to him "Get ready to enter the Matrix Neo". The next thing I remember is waking up roughly 24 hours later, for the first time in months my body was opiate free. John, my new friend who would share a hospital room with me for the next two days told me how he went through hell while the nurses tried to find a suitable vane for an iv they could use to administer his anesthesia, and me, who was already clearly in la la land had looked over at him, evidently in some wild world of the unknown, and began asking him "yo bro you remember that time in California man, dude that time with us in California and the waves, do you remember it was awesome!", to this he could only respond, as another needle pricked his arm, "Dammit man I want to be in California". When he told me about it I found this extremely humorous, because I have never even been to California, clearly, once the anesthesia finally took hold of me I must of really, actually gone into the matrix.
Once I was released from Florida Detox, I could not believe it, only three days earlier I was addicted to opiates, and in all reality I should be withdrawing from those horrible drugs still, I should be in a world of hurt, but I was fine I had my life back, screw pain killers, now I know how addicting they are and will never judge anyone for letting opiates get the best of them. I learned a lot of invaluable and shocking information by becoming addicted to opiates, our world is truly a tragic one and the very government that is set up to protect us is an extremely contradicting one. Doctor’s in fact are the biggest drug dealers in our nation dealing out prescription after prescription to our society, only to cut off peoples prescription drug supply the moment they can no longer afford insurance, or for a variety of other reasons, forcing them to go to the streets in search of these drugs and feel the horrible shame of being an addict, when in all reality the only reason they ever got addicted to these horrible prescription drugs in the first place is because of their well paid and highly educated doctors who are supposed to treat them and protect them from horrible situations just like this.
Heaven forbid you have a mental melt down and are forced to seek psychiatric assistance and it is documented, because then your dealer, your good old doc more than likely will instantly refuse you any more prescriptions, because now, to him you are simply a liability to his practice, your are flagged, and suddenly forced to suffer the brutal agony brought on by the withdrawal symptoms caused by the very drugs this man or woman at one point happily prescribed to you regularly and steadily increased your dosage to a point where it has become so excessive that to expect you to be able to function without it is like asking a blind man to paint the Mona Lisa, it just ain’t gonna happen. So many poor individuals told me there stories of what lead them to seek help, or rapid detoxification, mothers, and fathers alike, and it just made my heart bleed for them, I thought "these doctors, this is horrible that this is allowed, and they are not punished for putting people through this brutality in this day in age".
The doctors at Florida Detox even told us about methadone clinics, and how horrible they are. Our government allows entities such as these to thrive and grow, yet drugs such as marijuana are illegal. Well I got news for you, methadone is more addicting than heroine. The majority of people that get addicted to opiates quickly find themselves at these methadone clinics willing to shell out $15 to $25 a day for the dose of methadone they will receive in return to prevent them from experiencing the pure hell, and agony caused by withdraw, so they may get up each day and simply function normally. What they don’t know is that the withdraw life of methadone in your body lasts up to 40 days, and there is not a soul in this world that can endure that on his own. So from the moment they walk into their new found methadone clinic they are simply trading one horrible addiction for an even worse one, and our government actually allows this to legally happen. One man who lives in the Tampa Bay, Florida area owns numerous methadone clinics, and lucky for him methadone just happens to be a hot commodity these days, because business is good.
He even has his very own $200,000 Ferrari he drives around with a custom tag on it that says "HOOKEM", and it is legal, "F*ck!" this mother f*cker should be fed his own medicine day after day for months then be thrown into a cold cell for 40 days and 40 nights so he can rip his eyes out, scream at the top of his lungs, and claw at the walls as his very skin feels as though it wants to detach itself from his body so I can walk by and laugh when I say "how does it feel to be hooked cock sucker", the fact that society allows, or condones this simply should not be permitted. I once was bound by the chains of opiate addiction, I threw away practically everything I ever had or could be proud of for a drug. Now that I am free of those chains, for the first time in my life my eyes have been opened, and I will be the first one to let everyone know, I am finally ok.
2009-2010 © Brett Foster. All Rights Reserved.
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