I got an Uber driver yesterday to go pick up my car from the auto garage. We got to talking and I mentioned that I had been in school in the area, and she asked if I graduated, and I said no, I dropped out after a few years. And then expounded that it was because of a substance abuse issue.

This woman, who was like a 60 year old white woman that looked like an average sweet grandma, started telling me about how she was addicted to crack in the 70s and fucked around a bit with meth too. She said she was spending about $75 a week (in 1970s money so about $350 today) on it back then. But that she finally got her shit together after she got pregnant. She told me a lot about how even years later certain smells or other things will hit her deep and it’s not something that’s very easily gone away.

I told her about how I spent the last 3 years addicted to meth mainly but also heroin. How whenever I smell vinegar, I still get that craving for dope. About how at my max I was spending $1000 a month on drugs. I told her about how my psychiatrist got me a prescription for suboxone and that’s why I’m off heroin, and that he undoubtedly saved my life in that respect. And I told her that I was 3 and a half months off meth, and she gave me a high five.

Then we got to my destination, and as we’re pulling up, she says “Do you mind if I pray over you real quick?” Now I’m not a religious person at all, but I said “Of course not” and so she pulled into a parking spot, took my hand, and said a short prayer asking God to watch over me and keep me on my current path and I nearly fucking cried. It was one of the sweetest things a stranger has ever done for me. I very sincerely thanked her and then picked up my car and drove home.

Edit: corrected some spelling

It's gonna be so hard to find another Morphine dealer.. but I couldn't just sit around. Not sure if it was right to just turn him in, but the idea he could've killed someone if I didn't would haunt me forever...

Edit: He's selling Fentanyl, and calling it Morphine. If that isn't clear.

Edit2: This thread has 92% approval rating, most people arent idiots. The morons calling me a snitch, go look in the mirror and figure out how you sunk so low.

Hello redditors of r/drugs.

As the title stated, I'm a cop. Before anyone gets too heated, please hear me out.

My goal as a police officer is not to make the most busts, or arrest the most perps. My job is to serve the community, and at all times I strive to be as open-minded, compassionate, and fair as possible. That cop who treated you like garbage because you're a user? That ain't me.

Other than my time smoking a little weed at school, drugs and drug culture are a bit foreign to me. This is particularly true of harder drugs - meth, heroin, crack, etc.

I'm here because I'd like to start a dialogue, to learn about your perspectives. Culture. Experiences. Concerns. Attitudes towards police. Anything you think a cop should know to be more effective in the community.

In particular I'd like to know how I can best serve and help addicts, and what I need to know before doing so.

What do you say redditors? Can we have a proverbial coffee and chat?

UPDATE: Back again. Went out for food with the family. Now reading through all the comments. Thanks for having me as your guest, and for taking the time to chat to someone you would probably ordinarily try to avoid. It is appreciated.

UPDATE 2: Seriously humbled at this community for taking the time to engage. Thank you. Shout out to u/fuckthislifeee - appreciate the PM offering to have sex with my eye socket, I must however decline, and no I won't send you my address.

UPDATE 3: Cool front page. Would account for my exploding inbox. I've been on Reddit for far too long and will endeavour to come back on later to chat more.

To those who participated in a positive way, thank you. It's been great to have this dialogue. I have been endeavouring to read every post.

UPDATE 4: Just finished breakfast and a hot cup of society's most beloved drug. Reading through the mountain of replies. Thanks all. Never expected this post to get so big. Will attempt to reply to as many of you as possible today.

UPDATE 5: Loving this discussion. Thanks all.

I am so tired of hearing various people from various substance circles brag about their superior ability to operate a motor vehicle while inebriated.

I literally don't care what substance it is or how many times you've done it or how experienced you've become. You're fucking stunted, it will end in disaster one day, and to be honest, I hope it's a cop pulling you over rather than you hurting someone else on the road. It isn't respectable or cool; it's reprehensible.

A small amount of beer is one thing. A puff or two is one thing. But outside of that, grow the fuck up. You aren't just endangering yourself; you're endangering every innocent car that has to share a road with your dumbass, along with your passengers.

We all want a more positive view of drugs in our society, right? Well that starts with people that do drugs NOT MAKING STUPID ASS DECISIONS THAT HAVE SEVERE IMPACTS ON OTHER MEMBERS OF SOCIETY.

Rant over.

guys, I want to start off by saying that Mr. Dyer was my 6th grade science teacher. he was my favorite guy at my school. he was always nice to me and i adored him. when i found out about this, it sickened and horrified me. i was crying. i immediately called the school and asked for them to leave my contact info to Mr. Dyer, as i want to support him. he is a musician, as am I and I want to play with him. Anyways the gist of the story is that graham dyer (his son) took some LSD and had a bad trip. police were called (by his friends assumedly) and they apparently got pissed off by how he was acting, so they put this kid in hell. they tasered him in his genital area, kept on tasering him repeatedly and didnt stop. he was banging his head all around the vehicle because of the severe pain he was in. it was so bad that the link i am about to show you, the fbi had to cut the audio from it because he was screaming in agony. can you just imagine how much hell this kid went through??? he was having a bad trip on LSD and this happened to him. i cannot even imagine the hell he went through. guys I want you to spread this, make this public, because this is beyond fucked up. fuck those police officers. i hope they rot in prison for the rest of their life. the dyer family had no idea how their son was treated by police until recently because of an fbi investigation was opened last year. rest in peace graham dyer.

http://www.mystatesman.com/news/texas-police-withheld-records-their-son-death-now-they-know-why/MHJC1hWAbPhcN6gOtqOkyM/

edit: thank you nonameplayer13 for the names

"https://www.dallasnews.com/news/crime/2013/08/16/man-18-is-brain-dead-after-banging-head-against-mesquite-school-door-scuffling-with-officers-who-arrested-him-tuesday

"A struggle ensued and Dyer bit one of the officers, Jack Fyall, on the hand, Hedgpeth said. At least some of the fight is believed to have been recorded on a police squad car camera, police said.

The other officers at the scene were identified as Sgt. Richard Houston and officers Alan Gafford, Zackary Scott and William Heidelberg."

Not saying there should be any self justice but some of you wanted to know their names so badly... "

Specifically you /u/oniroin. You've lied about your age on here several times, lied about being a meth addict for eight years (your post history shows you're still in highschool). There are so many posts on here romanticizing things like meth and heroin addiction, many of them fictional. This is not a fucking game people, this isn't a place to write fictional bullshit so you can have your fill of karma. Many people here are actual drug users, with real stories that you're undermining and trivializing. I swear to god I'm going to call out each and every one of you fake poser cunts until you stop this horseshit. This subreddit does not need your fake as fuck sob story, you're decreasing the legitimacy of real experiences that are posted on here and it's not fucking appreciated.

I (M24) was at a family function this halloween. I don't drink like the rest of my family so I was sipping on an infused lemonade and hitting my dab pen all night. My older sister says to me at one point, "why do you always have to get stoned at family functions". My mom heard and said to her "You have had a drink in your hand the whole night so how's it any different? Your brother doesn't like to drink so why can't he enjoy himself in his own way?"

Idk if my mom indefinitely has my back or just understands me and my relationship with weed but im very thankful for her. And I hope someday weed will be more normalized in society like alcohol is

disclaimer: this is not typical acid use. There are many concretely 'beneficial' effects from lower, more infrequent doses

In 2014, I did on average 250ug of acid once a week for ten months, from January to October, or approximately 40 times. Doses typically ranged from 150ug-600ug (I assume; I never knew for sure how much I actually took). Subjective experiences ranged from slightly glowing colors to complete loss of any sense contact with the physical world around me (and a 10 minute orgasm at one point).

I had the ability to. I had savings. I lived in a house of accepting camgirls. Real life wasn't getting in the way.

The first thing people usually want to know is why? Nobody gets addicted to acid. It's unheard of. When people trip, they stay generally keep the fuck away from it for several months. It can be a very overwhelming experience, noncommunicable, and utterly alien.

I did it because I felt like I was learning. Every time I tripped I had the overwhelming sensation that the doors had opened and I was mainlining information from a direct source of truth. Every time I stopped tripping, it felt like those doors closed, and I forgot most of what I'd learned. But I wanted to remember.

So I kept doing it. Again and again, higher and higher doses. I needed to know. I produced art. I played music.

When we imagine frequent drug use, we imagine it as a form of escapism - that real life is too difficult, that we want to shut down for a time.

Acid was exactly the opposite. It heightened senses, heightened what I was aware of in my own mind, let me explore the way my own thoughts formed. It took what I was and shoved my own face in it. I couldn't look away. There were times of deliberately induced and absolutely excruciating emotional pain, to which nothing in my regular life has ever come close. I did it on purpose. I needed to know.

It is very difficult to talk about the "things you learn" while tripping, because it occurs while in such a deeply altered state that language ceases to apply. It really is more about a way of looking - a very specific type of engaging in experience. "Thinking about the experience" defeats the point, because thinking about it is not the same thing as "having it". Applying words to the experience is misleading by nature. It is the concept in math where defining a thing gives it an outside and an inside, and thus you can never define the thing that is "always outside" - in giving it a term, in identifying it with boundaries, it is no longer what you are trying to say. The Tao that can be named is not the Tao. It is the unspoken, the Mu.

As time went on, I stopped viewing myself as a being separate from the universe. Sensations became interesting to watch, not motivating. I entered such a permanent state of utter peace and contentment that I stopped wanting anything at all. And by the end of it, I barely got out of bed, barely ate. I had stopped working almost entirely and was living off slowly depleting savings. Why would I work? Why would I do anything? I was.... not happy, not sad, I simply was. I was free of desire. I did not fear death.

And, ten months in, I realized that's what I was looking at - death. I would compulsively whisper "I am dead" under my breath throughout the day. I was an empty vessel. And I realized, that if I kept doing acid, I probably would die, out of sheer apathy.

I wasn't terribly worried - but I had to make a decision. Did I want to continue down this path, knowing the end was oblivion? Or did I want to close the doors and return to the world of the living?

I chose the latter - not due to any compulsion or survival instinct (at least not subjectively) - but because I casually figured living would be more interesting.

The journey back was almost as strange and beautiful as the journey in. As my motivations slowly began returning, I found all I wanted was to forget. Whereas before I was trying to immerse myself in the knowing, now I was constantly attempting to shut eyes that were permanently pried open. No matter where I turned, the knowledge had been seared into my brain. It was like that feeling you get when you watch a movie and are suddenly aware that, just out of the frame, there are camera crews standing around the actors, and you stop buying into the story because all you see is the movie set.

I just wanted to pretend this was all real. I wanted to feel invested in myself. I wanted to feel upset, insecure, proud, happy, anxiety, anything. I wanted to stop knowing. Here is a poem I wrote during that time period lots of people have been making fun of this poem. I am feeling insecure and want to take it down, but instead am alleviating my worry about what you think of me with a disclaimer that it was personal and came from my journal, so don't have high expectations.

Before I chose life, I didn't mind the deep nothingness I had sunk into - but after the choice was made, it became... not uncomfortable, but strange. I felt like I had abandoned an old lover, like this constant twinge of pain, like a splinter in my throat I couldn't dislodge. I thought constantly about tripping again and being reunited. I did acid in my dreams.

Over time, almost without me realizing it, the eye slowly eased shut, like going to sleep. I started to find myself caught up in moments of investment. I started to feel insecure again, annoyed. And it was shitty and amazing.

It took about another ten months for me to return to roughly where I'd been when I started.

I'm mostly normal now, with only a few remnants. Sometimes certain types of conversations will trigger it, where I'm sitting there and suddenly the eye of the universe has turned on me and I am melting away. It is very intense. I don't mind, though. That's a fundamental part of the feeling, really - that I don't mind when it's happening.

I feel like I've pulled the wool over my own eyes. I've bought into this world. It is profoundly comforting in a way so subconscious it's difficult to identify. It's as though at all times, behind my ears, there is a powerful belief whispering it's okay. When I get locked out of my apartment, when debt collectors call, when my mom tells me she found a lump in her breast - it's okay. I chose this. I am full, I am held. I am not afraid anymore, and when I am, it's because fear is interesting, because I have the privilege of feeling it.

My underlying motivation now is to convey this awareness to others (or feel as though I have). It seems like the most important thing, the only important thing. And so here I am.

(edit: if you want to read more details and analysis of my experience, go here )

An elderly man was sitting alone on a dark path. He wasn't sure of which direction to go, and he'd forgotten both where he was traveling to...and who he was. He remembered absolutely nothing. He suddenly looked up to see an elderly woman before him. She grinned toothlessly and with a cackle, spoke: "Now your third wish. What will it be?"

"Third wish?" The man was baffled. "How can it be a third wish if I haven’t had a first and second wish?"

"You’ve had two wishes already," the hag said, "but your second wish was for you to forget everything you know." She cackled at the poor man. "So it is that you have one wish left."

"All right," he said hesitantly, "I don't believe this, but there's no harm in trying. I wish to know who I truly am."

"Funny," said the old woman as she granted his wish and disappeared forever. "That was your first wish..."

unknown author; if you know who, let me know so I can give credit

edit: various rephrasings, formatting, and an embarrassing failure of month calculation.

another edit

A lot of comments are saying "it made you feel like you understood, but it was just tricking your brain."

This is not implausible - a lot of people do acid and get utterly convinced of silly things. But I want to make two points.

One, that information gained from the use of drugs is not automatically invalid. If you have two brains, one which was structured for a lot of reflection and one that wasn't, and you fed the second brain a chemical that made it similar to the first brain, would the reflection it undergoes be invalid?

Two, that the "feeling of knowledge" is something we get every day, anyway. From school, from authority figures, from our own minds piecing things together. What separates "acid knowledge" from "regular knowledge" is that acid knowledge tends to be about things you can't prove or easily communicate. This puts it more in the same category as 'god' - maybe it's real, maybe it's not, but we have no way of accessing it.

Really it's a few levels above 'god.' People frequently report psychedelics as one of the most meaningful events in their lives. It has been shown instrumental in treating anxiety, depression, and end-of-life fear. There are measurable benefits from the outside, it's just very hard to talk about subjective sensations.

For example - how would I describe a new color to you if you'd never seen it? I couldn't, no matter how hard I tried to talk about it. I might sound absolutely insane. You might call me delusional. But if you had seen it, you would know exactly what I was talking about.

Nothing. Nothing happens, I was resuscitated and I just woke up confused, religion is a sham, keep doing drugs, nothing matters.

I'm writing this so my love ones know what truly happened.

Today started like any Saturday. I wake up, shake off my imposing existential dread, make a pot of coffee, and rip a couple of dabs with my housemates.

My friend, we will call him Michael (his name is really Michael) hands me the silicon rig.

"Yo Jahbriel, wanna rip this dab?"

Before i could answer, the rig is in my hands and I'm ripping said dab.

I exhale, instantly thinking to myself that I could've held this dab a little longer than I did. God I'm a THC fiend.

in approximately 7.9 seconds I realize that I'm stoned out of my gourd. Naturally I dart to my kitchen and start cooking some beans and making filling for some tacos. This is where I make the most fatal of flaws. This was the first of wrong choices in what is presumptively the last day of my life.

So I chop away at some veggies. I'm thinking some white onion (hell yeah), cherry tomatoes (please get in my mouth), minced garlic (you already know), black beans (please fuck my wife), and finally the x factor in this filling and the new bane of my existence: Habanero

Fast forward to me eating this taco and I'm just loving it. God, it was such a good taco. I finish, wash my plate, and head downstairs and hop on my laptop. While browsing the interwebs it doesn't take very much time to stumble onto this sub. I'm catching up on my daily dose of you all and find some story about a guy who fucked someones mom on prozac and some brew *note to self, is this the secret way of seducing milfs that I've been missing all along?

Anyway everyone in the comments was saying wow I'm jealous. I too was very jealous. I wanna fuck a milf.......

A light goes off in my head.

NSFW

So I head over to pornhub, I needed some me time.

I click on categories. Naturally, I swiftly click MILFS.

I procede to J O

After several minutes of making some sweet love to myself I begin to notice that something was different and not in a pleasant way. I tried to brush it off but over time the feeling began to intensify. it was coming from my dick. oh no.

Suddenly I was transported to a different place. I was back in my kitchen watching myself cook those beans from earlier. I again could smell the liquid smoke I tossed in, and hear the sizzling of the oil. My past self was deveining and deseeding the habanero. I rewatched my technique. After handling the habaneros I realized the dire mistake that I had made. Past Jahbriel never washed his damn hands.

Instantly I am sucked back into my own body, some light tears are rolling down my face, and I'm still beating my meat in my bed. Only now I know the severity of my situation and how I was brought here.

I stop, and close my laptop and just lay down with my eyes closed.

My dick. Is fucking on fire right now. Every passing second is a never ending pain crescendo. I feel as though my dick is literally burning at the fucking stake and no matter what I do I cannot stop it. I took a shower, I rubbed it with lotion, I even dunked it in a glass of fucking milk, that's how desperate I am. I'm thinking about really chopping my dick off this is becoming less of a hyperbole as time goes on. This is one of the most painful sensations I have EVER felt.

Mom and Dad, I deserved this pain. Natural Selection has waved it's hands and done its course and clearly I am not fit for survival.

If you are reading this. Please don't make the same mistakes I did.

So back in my coke days, which I have since quit for obvious reasons, I occasionally liked to mess around with hookers. Mostly for the “hookers and coke” experience that I wanted under my belt for some reason.

I hit up the ad which I hadn’t tried before, and got the address. It’s always exciting to see what you’re working with for the first time.

So I go to the room, and to my dismay this lady is about 70 years old. I think to my self, “ you know what, I came here to fuck, so I’m getting this done one way or another.” I hand her the money and take off my pants. I then proceed to bang the shit out of her. She finished me off with a blow job that she has perfected over 100 years of being in the sex worker industry. TOP Notch.

As I get back to my car, I see a text directing me to a different room number from around the time I was paying. Then it hits me. I WASNT SUPPOSED TO BANG THE OLD LADY, I was just supposed to pay her. I was supposed to bang her daughter or some shit. God damn

Edit: thanks for the gold. Glad my experience is at least doing some good in the world

It’s been over a full day since I used heroin. I didn’t do any yesterday, so it’s actually been 32.5 hours :)

Edit. I’ve been temporarily banned from r/drugs - but I still haven’t used and am up to 40 hours without using :)

Edit 2. Still only at 40 hours - but I just wanted to tell everyone wishing me well and congratulating me that I really appreciate what you say and wish I could respond to each of you individually :) I’ve PMd about a dozen of you! Thanks again, I’ll check in again tonight or tomorrow morning!

Edit 3. Hey everyone! I’m at 51.3 hours (but who’s counting?). I cannot express enough gratitude to all of you guys! I am in to my 3rd day without touching H and although I’m a sweaty pile a bones I’m alive and kicking (wait, maybe that’s just restless legs syndrome?)

Edit 4. Alright, I’m at 56.5 hours and just drove to work. I’m not sure how long I’ll stay today, right now I have a killer headache and a runny nose - but otherwise feel pretty good! I sang songs on the way to work, and felt normal for a few minutes :)

Edit 5. 63 hours off H. I only worked for 5 hours, but I’m going to try to stay for all 8 tomorrow. Tonight is just going to be about smoking weed, eating as much food as possible. And REST! Check in again later!

Edit 6. (This isn’t really an update - but I just wanted to share how creepy Facebook is! I just opened the app for the first time since quitting (and hearing of Kratom) and first thing I see is a suggestion that I like a page advertising Kratom)

Edit 7. Now I’m at 69 hours - can’t wait to have my sex drive back ;)

Edit 8. I’m at 80 hours. My tummy hurts and I feel weak. But I also know that I never need to use again - this may be my last update, because I don’t think I’ll have much to add except how much more awesome my life is everyday that I’m CLEAN!

Edit 9. I just noticed it’s exactly 100 hours! :)

Honestly what the fuck? I don’t even usually get the regular skittle pack anymore because of this but I was high as fuck last night and craved something sweet. Woke up with half the bag filled with only green fucking apple skittles sitting next to me. So bad not even high me wants to eat them