(photo: @zoltantasi)

One day, when my brother was 18, he waltzed into the living room and proudly announced to my mother and me that one day he was going to be a senator. My mom probably gave him the “That’s nice, dear,” treatment while I’m sure I was distracted by a bowl of Cheerios or something.

But for fifteen years, this purpose informed all of my brother’s life decisions: what he studied in school, where he chose to live, who he connected with, and even what he did with many of his vacations and weekends.

And now, after almost half a lifetime of work later, he’s the chairman of a major political party in his city and the youngest judge in the state. In the next few years, he hopes to run for office for the first time.

Don’t get me wrong. My brother is a freak. This basically never happens.

Most of us have no clue what we want to do with our lives. Even after we finish school. Even after we get a job. Even after we’re making money. Between ages 18 and 25, I changed career aspirations more often than I changed my underwear. And even after I had a business, it wasn’t until I was 28 that I clearly defined what I wanted for my life.

Chances are you’re more like me and have no clue what you want to do. It’s a struggle almost every adult goes through. “What do I want to do with my life?” “What am I passionate about?” “What do I not suck at?” I often receive emails from people in their 40s and 50s who still have no clue what they want to do with themselves.

Part of the problem is the concept of “life purpose” itself. The idea that we were each born for some higher purpose and it’s now our cosmic mission to find it. This is the same kind of shitty logic used to justify things like spirit crystals or that your lucky number is 34 (but only on Tuesdays or during full moons).

Here’s the truth. We exist on this earth for some undetermined period of time. During that time we do things. Some of these things are important. Some of them are unimportant. And those important things give our lives meaning and happiness. The unimportant ones basically just kill time.

So when people say, “What should I do with my life?” or “What is my life purpose?” what they’re actually asking is: “What can I do with my time that is important?”

This is an infinitely better question to ask. It’s far more manageable and it doesn’t have all of the ridiculous baggage that the “life purpose” question does. There’s no reason for you to be contemplating the cosmic significance of your life while sitting on your couch all day eating Doritos. Rather, you should be getting off your ass and discovering what feels important to you.

One of the most common email questions I get is people asking me what they should do with their lives, what their “life purpose” is. This is an impossible question for me to answer. After all, for all I know, this person is really into knitting sweaters for kittens or filming gay bondage porn in their basement. I have no clue. Who am I to say what’s right or what’s important to them?

But after some research, I have put together a series of questions to help you figure out for yourself what is important to you and what can add more meaning to your life.

These questions are by no means exhaustive or definitive. In fact, they’re a little bit ridiculous. But I made them that way because discovering purpose in our lives should be something that’s fun and interesting, not a chore.

Check out the rest of the article at Mark Manson

The post The Daily Man-Up: 7 Strange Questions That Help You Find Your Life Purpose appeared first on Caveman Circus.

Check out this new video that the homie sent over. It’s from gritty indie pop artist Van Bellman. The video is a mix of vintage old time visuals meets zombie apocalypse. It’s rock’n’roll vibes tells the story of a gothic love triangle with sexy women.  

The post Hot New Music Of The Day appeared first on Caveman Circus.

Red Dead Redemption 2 gives the player the choice to act in a variety of ways, with their actions ultimately affecting their moral rating and the way they are perceived by other characters.

Some gamers are now using free will to attack a suffragette character who can be seen in the the industrial city of Saint Denis, campaigning for her right to vote. Standing beside a ‘Votes for Women’ sign on a public street, a woman can be heard shouting “let me vote! I can say this all day!” over and over again. She has quickly gained the title of one of the more annoying characters in the game.

A YouTuber by the handle Shirrako uploaded a video entitled, ‘Red Dead Redemption 2 – Beating Up Annoying Feminist’, where he punches the woman in the face. Check out the video below.

The video quickly went viral, and now has over a million views. Although attacking a random NPC in almost any game isn’t unusual, the reaction to the video by commenters has raised some eyebrows, with many showing hatred for the suffrage movement and subsequent feminist causes.

“This is the correct course of action when women demand the ‘rights’ to vote WITHOUT the responsibilities that comes with it like men have,” one comment read, while another wrote: “This is what every feminist will need everyday.”

Another commenter stated “if men from the past could see the present, women would not have gotten rights to vote in any country, ever.”

Other gamers have found creative and unique ways to kill the same annoying NPC, with some beating and torturing the suffragette and others feeding her to crocodiles or tying her to train tracks.

The post Players Are Crafting Creative Ways To Kill The Annoying Feminist In Red Dead Redemption 2 appeared first on Caveman Circus.

In 2010, a teenage rugby player in Australia named Sam Ballard accepted an unusual dare at a party: swallow a live garden slug. The experience left him paralyzed and with significant brain damage, and on Friday (Nov. 2), Ballard died in a Sydney hospital at the age of 28.

In an interview with The Sunday Project, one of his friends said they were having a “wine appreciation night, trying to act as grown-ups and a slug came crawling across.”

“The conversation came, ‘should I eat it?’

“Off Sam went. Bang. That’s how it happened.”

Within days of eating the slug, Ballard noticed pain in his legs.

Doctors determined that the Australian man had contracted eosinophilic meningitis — a rare disease that affects the membranes of the brain and spinal cord — from the slug, which was infected with the rat lungworm parasite.

Rat lungworm infection can lead to bacterial meningitis, which may include symptoms such as headaches, nausea, vomiting, and “abnormal sensations” in the arms and legs, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC). Typically, rat lungworm infections get better without treatment. But in some cases, serious complications can occur and cause severe disruption of the nervous system or even death, the CDC says.

The brain infection left Ballard in a coma for 420 days and paralyzed him from the waist down.

The former rugby player endured years of rehabilitation and therapy but was never able to regain complete movement or walk again.

The Sunday Project reported that the 28-year-old died from complications of the injury on Friday. “Sam passed away on Friday morning at Hornsby Hospital, not far from where he grew up, surrounded by 20 of those he most loved in the world,” she wrote. His mother, Katie Ballard, who cared for him full-time, was by his side.

One of his friends who was in the hospital room on Friday said, “He had his voice and he said ‘I love you’ several times to Katie.”

The post Man Dies 8 Years After Swallowing A Live Slug That Left Him Paralyzed appeared first on Caveman Circus.

1. I am the only survivor of my family. I was only 19 years old when the genocide took place. My parents, three sisters and two brothers were killed in Gitarama on the 14th April.

When the killing began, my family escaped in many different directions. My two brothers and younger sister, then aged 14, escaped to Butare. Along the way my other sister and I separated from my brothers, managing to hide in a trench.

On 16th April we were discovered by some local villagers, who had joined with the interahamwe. We pleaded with them to leave us alone. We were extremely lucky, because they did just that. At around 2.00pm, still on the 16th, we naively believed that the situation must have improved. We came out of the trenches.

The killers mocked us saying: “Aha, it is the girls. Let’s go and ‘liberate’ them. We must give them something to celebrate.” They took us and another girl who was carrying a baby, to a nearby hill. We passed a roadblock where we saw that people were being killed. Right in front of us people were forced to squat on the floor and were then macheted or killed with a masu. A big truck was on standby where the bodies were piled on and taken away.

When they were tired of killing, the men came to us and ordered us to take off our clothes. They each in turn raped us. One man pleaded with the others to leave my 14 years old sister alone, saying she was only a kid. The other men laughed and said, that we were all going to be killed anyway. That we would have to chose between rape or a cruel death. They raped my 14­year­old sister. I stopped feeling my pain. I wanted to protect her, but I couldn’t. After raping us they gave us food to eat by the roadside.

Many people were being captured by villagers and brought to the roadblock. Soon there were so many women kept aside for rape. This went on two weeks. My sister and I met many women, some were raped and killed, others were macheted and lay in agony for days before eventually dying. Others were piled on lorries with the dead, even though they were still breathing.

A man called Marcel, who was our neighbour and had a reputation as a killer, came to the roadblock and recognised me. I begged him to save my sister and I. He told the interahamwe who were keeping us that I was his spoil and they let him take me. But I had to leave my sister behind. I was distraught.

Marcel accused me of forcing myself on him. Saying that I was a whore that deserved what I got. He took me to his home and raped me every day. His mother was left to guard me whenever he went out so that I would not escape. She was a nice woman. I asked whether she had any daughters of her own. She felt sorry for me. She would clean me up, and treat my injuries. She said that if I become a good wife to her son, she would make sure he never hurts me again. I told her I was sad because I had left my younger sister at a roadblock, and feared I had betrayed her.

When my captor finally returned home after two weeks away, he told that he had a surprise for me. I thought he was going to kill me. Instead he had brought my sister with him. His mother had pleaded with him to save my sister. I couldn’t believe he could be that kind. I was eternally grateful to him for saving my sister. But Marcel had a plan. He got one of his relatives to take my sister as his wife.

By mid ­June, there were few Tutsis left to massacre, and the killers got more and more agitated. They went from village to village to hunt any surviving snakes. Word got around that Marcel was keeping Tutsi spoils. The local leader ordered a search. I managed to sneak out of the house in time with the help of my mother­in­law, but my sister wasn’t so lucky. She was killed. I was so distraught by the news of my sister’s death, that I handed myself over to interahamwe to be killed.

Instead of killing me, another interahamwe took me to a disused house and raped me. He showed me his grenades and bullets and asked me to choose which death I would prefer. I picked up a grenade and threw it on the ground hoping it would blow me up, but it didn’t explode. He then called in his friends to punish me. They gang raped me. This went on for five days. I was left torn and bleeding. I don’t know how I sustained the abuse. After a time I finally passed out. When I awoke, the place was silent.

I ventured out of the house, hoping someone would kill me, or even rape me until I would die. I was filth, covered in blood, smelling. I looked like a walking dead. I kept walking calling for the killers to come and get me. By that time, I didn’t realise the Rwandan Patriotic Army had liberated the area. Soldiers dressed in uniform came towards me. I was throwing insults at then, demanding that they kill me. Instead they calmed me down and took me to a make shift clinic for treatment.

I have since found out that I am HIV positive. But I don’t want to talk about it.

2. In 1994, I was a nineteen year old student with high aspirations. Myself and two of my cousins, aged nineteen and seventeen, were abducted by the killers and kept for a week at the roadblock where, we were raped by anyone who felt like it. Each day we were raped in full view of everyone. At night we were locked in a house near the checkpoint. We attempted suicide by hanging ourselves but we did not succeed.

We managed to escape from the house, but ran into another group of interahamwe who told us that we had to choose to be their wives or face death. My nineteen year old cousin said that we wanted them to kill us, but they refused. Instead they shared us out amongst themselves and took us to their houses to be their wives. I kept in touch with my cousins through my captor but we were never allowed to see each other. We stayed with these men until we were rescued. I feel guilty for putting up with the rape and not resisting. I have nightmares of the attacks at the checkpoint and have difficulty in establishing or maintaining relationships.

Worse still, I have to bring up the child of my tormentor. The genocide, for me continues, as I can never forget my experiences whilst bringing up this child of bad memories.

3. I don’t remember the exact date, but it was sometime in April 1994. When attackers came to our home, I ran away to a hill to hide in the forest. There were many people seeking refuge there. The killers came with reinforcements. They arrived in large numbers, surrounded us, then herded us into a compound. They selected the women they wanted, and took us back to the forest to rape us.

The killers selected the older women first, raped them and killed them. I was only 18 years old. They separated me, and friends of my age, from the others, and sold us to another group of killers. They would bid against each other, and the one who paid the most would win the right to have you.

A killer paid 1,000 Rwandese Francs to have me. He kept me for two weeks and raped me every day. When he was tired of me he sold me again for 1,000 Rwandese Francs to another killer. I knew all of these men. They were our neighbours. The second man also kept me for two weeks then sold me for 500 Rwandese Francs to a killer who had been nicknamed ‘the butcher’. I knew he was going to kill me. By this time, I was so tired with my circumstances that I wanted nothing better than a quick death.

The butcher took me to a house where he was keeping other women. There we were about 20 in all. I didn’t know any of these women. He raped us and would bring some his friend’s home to rape us too. They would drink and then they would rape us in turns. Different men came every night. The butcher did not rape us, but he enjoyed seeing these men rape us. We must have been kept there for weeks. Sometimes we passed out and did not even know what day it was.

One night a killer known as Aaron visited the house, I knew him well, he recognised me. He asked that I be given to him for a wife. I was then passed on again to Aaron. He was also a prominent killer. He stayed at home. People were picked and brought to his house for him to kill with his machete.

I could not take any more. I planned an escape with other girls. At 1:00am I pretended to go to toilet and just disappeared, I met up with the other girls and we ran all night until we arrived at Rwamagana centre. We were finally rescued. I still have nightmares each night about what happened.

I was lucky not to get pregnant but I have AIDS. It is difficult to think positively about life.

4. I was 11 years when the genocide happened.

It was the 7 th April 1994, early morning, when news broke that the President of Rwanda had been killed in a plane crash.

My father woke us up and told us the news. We (Tutsis) were going to die too. My mother had broken her leg, and she couldn’t walk. After an hour we heard people singing, “We should massacre them!” Mother told us to go and that she would stay behind. We begged her to come with us, but she refused; so we left. However, I hid near home where I would be able to still see her.

After a few minutes, I saw people with headgear made of leaves carrying clubs. Some entered the house, while others attacked my mother. I watched what took place. I started crying. It was raining hard during this time, and there were wails, moans, and screams everywhere, with homes burning. It was a scene from hell.

I spent the whole day in the bush, hidden, without food or water. The killers found me, because they were using dogs to hunt people down. They had with them other people, whom they had captured. It was morning and we were all made to sit down in a field, as more people were brought. Then using machetes, they started the killing.

The men were killed first. I was kept alive with other women and children. I knew what I had witnessed, but my mind refused to believe it. I had no more feelings. I was just in a nightmare that refused to go away. It came to a point where I had no desire to live.

I was fortunate. I managed to escape and was found by the liberating army.

It is now 14 years since the genocide, but to me, it is just like yesterday. What happened, happened within such a short time, but it was long enough for the killers to enact a genocide in which over a million people were killed. Those who survived have nothing to forward to. We live in the shadow of the genocide. Many of us are scarred for life ­ physically, mentally and psychologically. And if that is not enough, many of those who survived were infected with the HIV virus through rape.

5. Recently married and living in Kigali with my husband, then aged 21, I was two months pregnant on 7 April 1994. That morning, in the immediate aftermath of the plane crash of President Habyarimana, soldiers searched my neighbourhood. When a group of six soldiers reached my house they demanded identity cards. And then ­despite the presence of my husband and their neighbours ­they instantly began to rape me. I lost consciousness after the first rape.

After a night in hiding, my husband and I returned home, believing calm would be restored with the appointment of a new interim president. But we were invaded, this time by the interahamwe.

They made my husband leave the house, and one of them injured me between the legs with his sword, while he was telling me to spread them. The other one also hit me with the back of his gun, and told me to take my clothes off. That day three interahamwe raped me. Others took my husband away, I don’t know where, and I’ve still not seen him to this day.

I tried to hide in the abandoned homes of my neighbours, but I was soon found and again I was raped.

During one night, an interahamwe came to the house I was hiding in. He tapped on the door, but I didn’t let him in. He broke the glass pane in the window of the bedroom that I was in. When he lit his torch, he saw me. He told me to open up, or he would open fire inside. When he came in, he said that I should make a choice, between death or doing exactly what he wanted me to do. I would have preferred to die, but he refused to kill me. He threw me on the bed and then raped me. Afterwards, he used his sword, still in its sheath, to torture me even further.

I have had no opportunity to pursue justice. Most of the men who raped me were soldiers and I didn’t recognize them, while the militiaman, who I knew, left for the Congo and has not returned.

(via)

The post Testimonies From Survivors Of The Rwanda Genocide appeared first on Caveman Circus.

Eating At The Worst Reviewed Restaurant In My City 

"The Worst Roofing Job Ever! This Tops Anything I have Seen in 25 Years of Roofing"

11-Year-Old Boy Shot & Killed His Grandmother Before Turning Gun On Self, After Refusing To Clean His Room

How these penny-pinchers retired in their 30s

Conversation Topics That Lead To Sex

The post The Dumping Grounds appeared first on Caveman Circus.

Yes, Everyone on Instagram Is Having More Fun Than You – Outside

The Chinese Farmer Who Live-Streamed Her Life and Made a Fortune – New Yorker

The beauty of used underwear – Dazed

Newlyweds die in helicopter crash less than 2 hours after wedding – AOL

Someone skipped the class where they told you that 50 years ago this wouldn’t have been a family either – Imgur

5 Romantic Things You Can Do Without Having To Look Up From Your Phone – Waterford Whisper

Seinnheiser vs. Beats headphones after being subjected to comparable activities and length of use – Imgur

Why You Should Stop Trying to Find Your Soulmate—And What to Do Instead – Time

What billionaires want: the secret influence of America’s 100 richest – The Guradian

Smaller than a pack of gum, ultra strong, and brilliantly designed for smooth glides, this keyring holds up to 10 keys with no jingle and can withstand the toughest conditions – Amazon

How Identity, Not Issues, Explains the Partisan Divide New research has disturbing implications – Scientific American

5 Tactics Used By Passive-Aggressive Arguers (And The Best Forms of Defense) – Robert Greene

Analyzing Lego Porn, the Fetish That Will Ruin Your Childhood – Motherboard

How to Fly First-Class for Under $1,000 – Traveler

Cum for Me: Intimate photographs of men and women at the point of orgasm – Dangerous Minds

Why Are People Fleeing Central America? A New Breed of Gangs Is Taking Over – WSJ

Matt Barnes Asks Judge To Decrease His $20K/Month Child Support Since He Has Full Custody Of His Kids – Total Pro Sports

Where Do Our Sex Dolls Go After We Die? – Medium

Elizabeth Hurley Bouncing Erotica of the Day – Drunken Stepfather

Why My Wife Matters to Me More Than My Children – BrightSide

The Galaxy’s First Luxury Space Hotel Is Now Accepting Reservations, It’s 200 miles up and $792,000 a night – Maxim

Natural Stress Reduction 101 – Tata

Instagram model Taylor Vecchia isn’t new to being linked to athletes, especially NBA players – Sports Gossip

Starship Troopers: One of the Most Misunderstood Movies Ever – The Atlantic

Entitled model attacks bouncer, then gets punched in face – Trending Views

Meet Insta Model Adriana Conti – G-Celeb

The post Linkage appeared first on Caveman Circus.

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Stylebender is a savage 

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Guy tries to disarm another guy with a rifle

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Man uses knee on belly to subdue knife wielding attacker

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Fight at a diner between worker and patron

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Nasty Guillotine!

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Mayweather’s next opponent

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Crazy backhand knockout

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Nasty knee puts guy to sleep!

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Holy shit!

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The Dragon….The Legend

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“Nothing in the world is worth having or worth doing unless it means effort, pain, difficulty… I have never in my life envied a human being who led an easy life. I have envied a great many people who led difficult lives and led them well.” ― Theodore Roosevelt

Ease isn’t your friend. It’s your enemy.

It stands as a false ideal, something to aspire to have in the present, without having earned it.

And do we ever really earn ease?

Ease, laziness, they’re regression. They’re waste.

They rip from us our potential, and the life we can potentially create, and yet we constantly heed their siren-like call and settle into their grasp, ignorant of the fact that they oppose the act of living, they poison potential, they crush creation.

Ease isn’t an ally, it’s a devious, son-of-a-bitch of an enemy that clouds the true path.

It’s a path where we find what we’re made of, where we create something better than what we have, where we discover meaning, purpose, and pride.

It’s in struggle, strife, and pain, it’s in effort, hard work, and battle, that we create power.

Nothing good has ever come from a quest for ease. 

Check out the rest of the article at Average2Alpha

The post The Daily Man-Up: Ease is the Enemy appeared first on Caveman Circus.

Disclaimer: We do not condone the use of drugs, this is for entertainment and educational purposes only

Cocaine

On saturday, a group of friends and I made our way to a neutral location to ride the white pony all night long. We dumped the white rocks onto a mirror and cut it with a razor until we had the perfect powder consistency. I cut a line, rolled a $20 bill and snorted. It was so smooth, I expected the first time to be less comfortable than it turned out to be. I waited for everyone else to get a line and then we went around for the second nostril. About 15 minutes or so later, I started to feel really good. I was extremely happy, loving and care-free…I felt like a million bucks. But it was nothing like I had expected. The whole time I was waiting for one distinct moment when I would feel a rush of euphoria wash over my body. That never happened, instead it just kind of manifested itself in the form of extreme comfortability with the people I was with. Time did not progress as it usually does. That was probably one of the most bizarre aspects of the drug; the whole night just seemed to fly by, yet we did so much. We talked for hours, walked for hours, and all in all just enjoyed each others company all night long. 

There was no option of sleep…coke gets me so hyped up, that I literally cannot sit still. And even when I do, my body will continue to maintain an elevated heart rate. It was like exercising without moving my body. There was also absolutely no desire for food. I was on the drug for 8 hours total and did not need to eat for 12 hours after my last line. But as expected, the drug started to wear off about an hour or so after the last line. I still felt good, no signs of depression or the need (not want) to do more. Unfortunately, everyone else was beginning to come down, some were really irritable and others just seemed down. Indirectly, this made me feel a bit depressed, so we decided to do some more lines. After this, the happy feelings came back and everyone was back to talking and having a great time. We continued snorting until we all had had at least 200 mg. At some point within this large time frame, I started to get super paranoid, but because I knew to expect it, I could somewhat disregard the feelings. 

At this point, I started feeling like I was enjoying the lines a lot more than everyone else, and in my head, I thought everyone was staring at me and thinking what a big cokehead I was. I couldn’t stop looking around the room at everyone to make sure they weren’t glaring at me. This was very strange to me because I am usually such a calm person, but all of a sudden I became so paranoid and my palms started sweating and I couldn’t stop moving my feet. Another side effect was extreme dry mouth. I found that I was constantly sniffing, which caused me to swallow uncontrollably. I couldn’t stop swallowing to save my life, and water wasn’t really working, so, in my current state, I decided to swallow lubricant (the edible kind of course), and amazingly, it worked like a charm. It coated my throat and tongue and kept the uncomfortable dry mouth at bay. I would also recommend chewing gum, although alone, it does not work as well as with lubricant. 
All in all, I did not suffer from post-cocaine usage depression, nor did I feel that bad in the morning, but then again, I hadn’t slept a wink. My heart rate was still elevated in the morning when I tried to go to sleep. 

Eventually I slept, but not for long and with lots of startling awakenings form the slightest sound (residual paranoia…). Another thing I did not feel was the urge to do another line. I can honestly say that I will never have to do cocaine again, whether or not I want to is a totally different story. I would offer the following advice to all those contemplating using coke: it is a very powerful drug, but nothing is more powerful than one’s own willpower. Know that the drug is not physically addictive, rather, it is very pschyologically addictive. So be very careful and do not misinterpret the desire to do more coke as a need for it. It is very possible to do coke once or often and never form a dependancy on the drug, one just has to be extremely careful with what one is dealing with. Cocaine is not an escape from the mundane aspects of everyday life. I implore people not to use this drug if they are depressed or trying to hide from problems, which will only perpetuate themselves into an even larger and more dangerous ordeal. 

MDMA (Molly)

About 30 minutes went past, and I began to worry if we’d gotten bad pills again. My friend reassured me that it would hit, but to just be patient. 10 minutes passed, and I felt something hit me… but it was almost like an alarming type of thing. I told my friend I think it’s coming now. She agreed and we walked to my boyfriend’s room, and I had a casual conversation before K and I walked back to the other bed. About a minute or two later, it hit me full force! I had an overwhelming feeling of happiness engulf me! It was too much to bear. I ran back to my boyfriend’s room along with K and yelled out, ‘I’m so happy!’ My boyfriend and T looked at me in confusion. 

I jumped on the bed, rolling around as I felt on the sheets. Everything felt so nice against my skin. I felt the need to tell everyone how much I loved them and wanted them in my life. 

I felt the need to tell everyone how much I loved them and wanted them in my life.
I even told the dog and gave him a hug! I was the happiest I had ever been in my entire life and I kept saying it. All my emotions were spilling out, and I couldn’t control it. I said whatever came to mind, whatever I felt, without any sort of fear and anxiety for the consequence. Every emotion was amplified x10! I had nothing but good feelings of happiness, love, unity, and peace. I wanted all my friends to know how special they were to me, and how much I enjoyed having them in the my life. Eventually, my friend K had to leave. I gave her a kiss on the cheek and a hug and told her I loved her about 5 times before she left. 

So it was only my boyfriend and T left in the house. I’m not sure if T left the room but all I remember is hugging my boyfriend and telling him how much I loved him. I just kept saying, ‘I love you!’ And he would say it back, and I’d say ‘YAY!’ over and over for what seemed like hours. But it was probably for a good 20 minutes. It was almost as if I blacked out because I don’t remember it fully. Me and my boyfriend walked to the other bed and began to make out. One touch led to another and eventually we had sex (for the first time, ever). We had been dating for a good six months but never had sex. And man, was it was the most mind-blowing experience of my life! Every touch was amplified! I had so much love emitting from my body and I felt so at peace and close to my boyfriend. I never realized how much I truly loved him until the day I rolled. This was very important for me to realize because I had never felt that way about a guy before. I realized he was my first love, and I cared about him deeply. 

…And the music was another story. Songs took on such a beautiful tone! Every song I listened to became my favorite song. I couldn’t help but sway my body to the incredible music. It felt like I was perfectly in tune with each beat. I truly loved to dance on E! For awhile I just laid on the bed with my boyfriend, listening to music. I could feel myself coming down gradually. I was saddened, but after wards I had an imense afterglow! I was still so very happy about my experience even after I was sober. It changed my whole perspective on life. I realized I shouldn’t be afraid to try new things, or meet new people, or say how I felt! It was an important revelation for me. 

Meth

A couple of friends from out of state showed up one friday with some ice. After quite a bit of persuasion, my bf and I decided to try it out. My main concern was that it would speed up my heart beat and I really don’t like things that mess with my pulse. They assured me that it wasn’t like speed or coke. And I wasn’t disappointed. 

I am not really sure about the dose, as they did everything for me (except smoke it!) I think it only took 1 or 2 crystals in the shalay (3 hits) to get me off. It was pretty much, instantaneous. Maybe 2 or 3 mins before I started to feel good. This was around 3-5pm. By feeling good, I mean I felt almost euphoric. I was really up, and happy. I felt energetic, but not sped up. My heart rate remained calm and even and I was not nervous or fidgety at all. 

I did get the sudden urge to go outside and jump on my neighbors trampoline. (I hope he didn’t mind, cause I didn’t ask!) The plan was to go to a dance club and a strip club that nite (as I had never been to a strip club before) and well, dancing is a great way to spend some of the energy I had. We drove to a big city (because where we live is a southern baptist bible belt, dry ass (no bars), small minded town). Not that I don’t like it here, you just have to drive a long way to have fun. 

We smoked about a quarter bag of ice between the four of us and crushed and snorted a line a piece, and did one hot rail a piece before leaving the house that night at 9pm. So about four hours of time with about a quarter and a half of ice between four people. 

I never felt any different than when I first hit it earlier that day, but I still continued to take the hits offered to me by my friends. 
Upon reaching our first destination (motel room) we got ready to go out and did some more ice. It was probably around 11pm when we got there. We probably did about another quarter between the four of us again. We never made it to the dance club, as it was already 2 am before we actually left the room, and no one else wanted to go dancing but me. But we did go to the strip club which was open until 6am! And I did get my first lap dance from this really hot chick!!!!My bf paid and then enjoyed the show!!! That was a grrrreat time! 

We left the club at 5:30am and went back to the room. We ended up doing more ice, off and on, until around 12 noon. So total was between 2 and 3 quarter bags, between 4 people, in 8 hours. I had no fatigue at all was still feeling pretty good. A little restless, but I think that was due to the fact that I am normally an up person and constantly moving anyway. We started heading home around 2pm Saturday and I started coming down pretty hard. 

One of the reasons I wanted to share my experience with you was because of what I learned from this drug. For a first time user don’t over do it. I didn’t realize that. Just one dose would’ve been enough to keep me going all night and I may not have crashed as hard as I did. I already suffer from manic depression. I am not currently being treated though because I can’t afford the meds or the doctors (thanks hmo’s). Therefore when I came down, I came down hard. I couldn’t eat for four days and even then I had to make myself eat just a couple of bites here and there. I had outbursts of crying, and anger, and stress, and worry, and anxiety (you get the picture). It was the worst case of manic depression I have ever suffered through. I didn’t sleep much for the first three days. About 5 or 6 hours total, and I couldn’t function at all. And I couldn’t stop talking for 5 minutes at a time for about three days. So basically what I want to say to you is please be careful! If you suffer from depression like I do, take it slow and make sure you have someone you can talk to when your coming down. 

Mushrooms

It all happened on a warm day of September, 3th September 2017. Me and my friend already had a small experience with this substance (Psilocybe Tampanensis, Philosophers Stone), but all we achieved was disappointment, probably due to a lacking dose; this time the dose was fairly enough to have a decent Level 3 to 4 trip. I drove to him at 12PM, he lives about 35km far, he lives in a countryside place full of woods. 

Firstly, he took me to a big forest, which sadly was entirely burnt, we laughed at how we would be getting such a bad trip in there as everything was black and burned, so we moved to another place. We ended up on a lovely hill, full of pines, typical mediterranean flora. We ingested the truffles at about 1PM, none of us had any breakfast or food to maximize the effects; all I had was a beer to cool down the anxiety of the come up, not that great idea since I ended up with an uncomfortable nausea, while my friend didn’t. 

About 1 hour later the effects started kicking in, I didn’t really trip hard until I laid directly under the sunlight. It seemed to hugely amplify everything, closing my eyes I would have 3D visuals such as a digital spiky dragon which was getting closer to me. I laughed at the fact that he was trying to scare me. By this time, I put my headphones on and after a bit, ‘Sigur Ros – The nothing song’ started playing; the childish voice somehow reminded me of my sister who died of cancer at the age of 3, it was a strong hit, and I had to take my headphones off. Having my eyes open, instead, would show me a brighter blue up in the sky. 

I tried to eat something at this point, about 2:30 hours after ingesting truffles, a very bad idea, my mouth was so dry I couldn’t throw down anything, I ended up spitting the food out, otherwise I would definitely have suffocated. Sipped some peach ice tea after this. Later on, I realized that staying with my friend would limit my effects, so I decided to have an adventurous walk upon the hill; once I reached a forsaken tower the environment surrounding it was just sensational, the sight itself was amazing, but in that moment it was 10x better, and it caused me a strong emotional feeling, a mixture of discovery, curiosity and joy. After a while I went back to our basement, and my friend said he didn’t even realize I had a walk. We ended up talking and joking on the fact that each other’s presence would limit the effects, so I told him to go and check out that wonderful place on his own. He did. 

By this time my thoughts were not the best thoughts I could get, I started thinking about the fact that my dad is a tobacco addict and about his life assurance. I thought that I couldn’t stand his death, and I ended up tearing a bit. The tears caused me a deep feeling of satisfaction, like I’ve been trying to get this out for so long; now I wasn’t sad anymore, as I was laying on the towel with my belly down on the ground and my face staring at the trees, I somehow experienced being nothing for a short time. I was literally nothing, and it was not good, it was not bad, it was just linear and stable nothingness. 

I was literally nothing, and it was not good, it was not bad, it was just linear and stable nothingness.

As my friend came back I cleaned my tears and we talked about religion and afterlife, and I stated that death mustn’t be so bad, and I actually think this, I think life is much harder and painful than death, when you’re dead you don’t feel anything, you don’t have any needs, no thoughts, you’re nothing, as you used to be before your birth. It was kind of bizarre realizing for how of a short time we’re alive in the entire time’s timeline, I kept wondering when did time start running? It always ran? How? Will it run forever? While talking about this some small trees would turn into some minecraft-like texture, it was cool. I realized in this moment that visuals are just a side effect of this substance, the main changes are in your perspectives. 

Cannabis

I first tried weed late in my freshman year of college. I had seen other people doing it plenty of times, had hung out with high people, but had never been there myself. Finally, in Decemeber, I decided to try it out, and asked a couple of my friends, W and T, who smoked up frequently. W, who provided, was incredibly experienced, so the shit I smoked was probably really strong. 

The three of us gathered around a bong, and I managed to take three really good hits and hold them in without coughing too much, though I couldnt do any more without coughing. 5 minutes go by, nothing. I can tell that W and T are starting to get high, but I just feel tired. 10 minutes, still nothing. W tells me a lot of people dont feel anything their first time, and I start to feel like I wasted my time. Finally, about 15 minutes in, I started to feel something. Now, everyone told me beforehand that weed makes your mind work differently and makes you think of profound things. NO ONE told me about the physical effects, so that took me by surprise. 

It felt at first like a pressure in the back of my head, sort of like someone was trying to tickle or grasp the top of my scalp. This feeling gradually turned into a pressure and an intense tingling that worked its way through my head, down my face, down my neck, and to the tops of my shoulders. I was just starting to get used to the tingling when it quickly washed all over my body, and my whole body at once felt very tingly and numb. I was sort of scared, because I had absolutely no idea what was going on. I felt every part of my skin on my clothing, and it felt nice to move the clothing around. I felt every joint as it moved. It was beautiful, like a artificial orgasm. Though honestly, it did nothing to expand my mind. I became a moron. Nothing new occurred to me, only now I was more interested in things that I already understood. Like, I was fascinated by T’s keyboard, though I already knew how it worked. It was like the weed was blocking a part of my mind that already knew things and was jaded to how they worked. 

We went into another room to play 4 way Goldeneye and eat and drink some juice. The Sour-Cream and Onion Pringles were fantastic, I ended up eating about half of the canister. The orange juice tasted so good, i just stuck my tongue in the cup and left if there, to continue to experience the taste. As far as the video game, I kept looking at the wrong side of the screen and wondering why my guy wasnt doing what I told him to, and why they told me I was losing. I also sort of degenerated into a child again. It became fun to pretend I was a super-hero or to pretend to shoot the bad-guys and play games like that. Finally, after about 2 hours of all this junk, I came down, and went to bed soon after. 

The reason weed frightens me and why I have not done it much since my first time came the next day. I was very fuzzy, and had trouble holding onto thoughts. I couldnt study, couldnt concentrate, couldnt work my mind the way I needed it to work. It really took 2 or 3 days before I felt completely back to normal. 

Since the first time, I have smoked up about 7 other times, from different people’s stashes and in different settings… 6 that same year, and once a few months ago, after not having smoked for 2 years flat. The experience has always been the same: the wonderful orgasmic physical sensation, the mental dullness, the childishness, and the fuzziness and forgetfulness for days afterwards. No visions, no amazing revalations, no life-realizations. I realize this is atypical, but I did not see one report under Weed Experiences that was similar to mine. Overall, its not worth it for the toll it takes on my mind. Yes, the physical sensation is great, but its an artificial, outer sort of great. Not the same sort of lasting, inner great you get from, say, falling in love. Weed is nice but its cheap and artificial, and we’re not meant to feel that way. I dont know if I’ll smoke again, but I’m thinking probably not. 

Unlike being drunk, its not an experience that I can begin to do justice to through words. I have tried my best to describe it, but its even more intense than that. Just be careful, and be mindful of your thinking capacity afterwards. 

LSD

Presidents Day rolled around and me and Peter met at Toms house with Tom to begin our trip. We all walked into the kitchen and discussed the amount we would take. Tom decided to do a full tab, as it was his second time tripping and he felt comfortable doing so. Peter decided to do a third as it was his first time, and I also decided to do a third as it was my first time 

I also decided to do a third as it was my first time. We all took our blotters and had a small toast to the upcoming experience. 

We all walked outside and sat down and patiently waited, Peter and I were somewhat giddy with anticipation as to the effects of the LSD. Tom was less giddy as he had already had a previous experience. After about 25 minutes, Peter and I were talking about any changes in our vision that we may have noticed or placebo’d ourselves into seeing. This did not consist of a whole lot, yet. We waited another 15 minutes, and proceeded to have another conversation. This time, speaking about how all of the trees outside suddenly looked outlined, as if they had a high resolution filter on them. They were unmistakably noticeable, as if they demanded that they be emphasized out of the rest of nature. We talked about these details and then decided to walk inside. We all went to Tom’s room where Tom’s girlfriend was, Tom began cuddling with her and was mostly focusing on her for the majority of the trip. Me and Peter moved to the hallway outside his room and gawked at a painted canvas hanging on the wall, this canvas had a sunset over a small island with a palm tree, the sunset reflected off of the water and made the ocean look beautiful in the picture. We marveled at these colors and then moved to sitting on the floor and watching the carpet move and breathe. 

It was not long after this that I decided to move outside again, I went outside and laid on the deck. I listened to the wind against the leaves of the trees and heard all of the tiny sounds coming from all parts of the nature that surrounded me. This was by far the most calming and absolutely gorgeous sound I had ever heard. I flipped onto my chest, as I was previously laying on my back, and saw a leaf lying on the deck. I stared at this leaf, and watched all of the tiny, intricate patterns in the leaf dance and breathe as if it was just as alive as I was. I absolutely marveled at these details and was astonished, at the fact that something so small and minute as a leaf, could have so much detail put into it. I continued to lay and stare at this leaf in awe as I pondered this question of detail in small forms. After about an hour of staring at this leaf and listening to the sounds of nature as it was living alongside me, I closed my eyes. 

When I closed my eyes, I suddenly saw a huge burst of color, and this burst of color then faded to a deep, and beautiful purple mixed with other colors that seemed to be in a transparent layer behind the purple. Barely visible, but visible nonetheless. Then, surrounding and inside of this purple hue that I was viewing with my eyes shut, I saw small white dots lighting up everywhere in random spots on the purple hue of color. This looked like what I would imagine the universe as looking like if I could clearly see it in the middle of the nothingness it engulfs. As the white dots appeared in this “universe”, I witnessed a tree growing out of nothing in the color and white lights that I was seeing. This tree continued to grow right in plain view of my mind, and I witnessed it growing from nothing, to being a mature tree, and then watching the leaves it grew ever so slowly, very slowly falling off the tree one by one. Till the tree was barren and empty. Then, I viewed its leaves regrowing and the cycle repeating itself. This cycle of this tree growing and dying and growing and dying continued on in my mind. I realized at that moment as it repeated itself. That human existence is no different than the tree and its leaves. We grow as people and expand ourselves, only to die in the end, only to rejoin the rest of the universe as one, as the leaf falls to the ground and decomposes to provide the soil with more nutrients that provide plants more fertile soil to grow in. Everything is an extension of another thing, and that continues until the last extension is a extension of one single thing. Everything. 

At the time I realized this in my trip, I smiled very wide and opened my eyes. A warm feeling unlike anything I’d ever felt coursed through my body. I felt so pure, and genuinely happy. I felt as though all of my questions were answered and that I could rejoin the universe and exist in harmony as I should have been doing all along. This truly felt like the first time I had ever felt genuinely happy, and to this day continues to be one of the most absolutely beautiful and defining moments of my entire life. I still tear up when thinking about it, as it is truly the one time in my life when I felt whole. I felt pure and I felt the clarity that I strive to attain in my life now. 

It is beauty in and of itself that I wish I could hold onto. But, nonetheless, after I had this realization, I stood up. And just stared into the woods surrounding the majority of Tom’s house. I smiled wide and full as I stared at the woods. I stood there like this, probably looking absolutely ridiculous. But feeling absolutely amazing, for quite a while. My friends then walked out and retrieved me from the deck and walked inside with me. 

I felt as though my first trip had taken an extremely thick fog that resides in my mind, and blew it clear away. And left me with no confusion or non awareness of the paths I could choose to follow in life, and it began the next step of my journey. Which is still continuing on, and I have a feeling it won’t end anytime soon. My first trip was the most loving, beautiful, and enchanting experience I have ever had the pleasure of living through. I very often sit and wonder if I will ever find my answers I search for, I think maybe I will one day. But I think deep down I know, that truly, I won’t find them in my own life. Initially this may seem disheartening, but my friends, please, if you take anything from this, take and remember this one piece of advice. 

Often times, the journey is far better than the destination. 

Heroin

Everyone says that heroin is the most hardcore drug that one can do…one that will consume you, spit you out, and continue to chew you until there is nothing left. Thats the absolute truth. Its arguably the best times of your life, along with the worse. A heaven and hell complex, if you will. With the good, comes the bad, and I was soon going to learn that the hard way. 

I still remember the first time I did heroin. ‘You tryin to shoot some dope today?’ My friend J asked me. He was with another one of our friends B, and I had met them up at the local college. ‘Yeah, I’m ready’ I thought, already stoned from the weed from earlier. The boys hopped in my car, and we drove downtown to the city..the first time for me. The boys already knew where to cop, who to go to, so I didnt ask many questions..just drove to the ‘spot’. Once we got there, J got out of the car with our money and copped about 5 pills. Usually with a tolerance, one pill of good quality heroin will suffice for a user. Hence it being my first time, the boys said that I should only do about half of a pill. 

The boys told me to drive to a safer location for administering the substance and chilling out for a bit. We drove a few blocks to a different parking lot. When we got there, I was anticipating what I knew would be one of the greatest drug experiences of my life, and I was not wrong. B prepared the shot for me, and he asked me if I was ready. I was still in the drivers seat at the time, and I said yes. He used his belt to tie off my arm to find a good viable vein for injection. I told him that I didnt have very poppy veins, and that it might be a little hard for him to find one. ‘I can always find a vein man, just sit back and relax, itll be done in a sec’ B said, already slightly nodding out from his shot. I said okay. *Prick* B pulled back the syringe to see if blood pulled back, making sure he was in the vein. I saw him slowly push the plunger in, and releasing the heroin into my body. 

‘Make sure he doesnt fall out’ I heard J tell B. 

‘should I feel it soon?’ I asked B. ‘Ohyeah’ they both told me. 

The very second those words left my lips, I felt an incredible surge of relaxation shoot from my solar plexis, outwards to the rest of my body. My vision waved from the top right of my vision to the bottom left like flipping pages. It felt like having a full body orgasm while slowly sinking into a jacuzzi. I felt slightly queesy but after a minute it subsided. All I could mutter was ‘wow’ my whole body screamed and indulged in the opiate bath it has been given for the first time. 

I vomited about an hour later, and I was extremely high and nodding in and out for the rest of the day. 

For about a month or so later, I continued to use maybe 4 times a week, every time with my buddy J. He would administer the shot, and my habit did not really get bad until he went to rehab about a few months later. I learned how to obtain the drug on my own, how to administer it to myself, and I was with a new crowd of people that were hardcore addicts. At my worst I was having to steal 350-400 bucks a day to support a speedball habit-concoction of heroin and cocaine, buying crack, and using 10+pills a day. This continued towards a downward spiral where I lost my job, lost my phone, the respect of my family, my car, and eventually my house. I would have to steal from family in order to support my habit, and I was kicked out twice. I still remember stealing to support my habit AND pay for a motel, and continuously stealing and shooting dope. Going through physical withdrawal would be a living hell. Constantly dry heaving, throwing up foam, your bones feel like they are being drained and hollow, and your muscles continuously ache with unwarranted pain. It is one of the worst feelings one can go through..not just physically, but mentally as well. You can smell the heroin cooking in your skin when you are sick. 

I eventually got my life back to normal. 

I got my car back, worked on my relationship issues with my parents, and found another great job. 

I have seen my life, and the lives of my friends who were also using just hit rock bottom, and I learned the hardway how heroin can consume your whole being, all for those 5 heavenly minutes of the heroin rush and high. 

The post This Is What Drugs Are Like appeared first on Caveman Circus.

1. I’m 23 and have been using iv heroin since my 17th birthday. I’ve gone to multiple rehabs, halfway houses and different states to get clean. I’ve done some extremely bad things I’m not proud of but its my truth, my reality that I have to remind myself of on a daily basis. Ive pawned every piece of gold or jewelry in my parents house, the majority of it during my mom’s open heart surgery which had devastated her when she was well enough to see what was missing. A lot of it was her mother’s who died almost 20 years ago and really all she had left of her. I live near a lot ofy family and used to unlock windows and later break in and steal anything of importance. I had written many fraudulent checks that belonged to my parents which the bank had caught up with. I didn’t even try hard to match the signature, it was so sloppy and desperate now looking back. Now I’ve done every type of prostitution that could ever be imagined.

From being homeless and literally tricking on the street to seeing sugar daddies to ‘highclass hooking’ as an escort on backpage ads and was a stripper off and on for years. I’ve been paid from $20 to $3000, pretty obvious which paid which. I actually had no problem with the sugar daddies because they were always kind and respectable or were paying me enough to do whatever insane fetish they were into. I’ve gotten paid thousands for three somes with other hot chicks and a grand to have olive oil rubbed all over me. The hardest blow to the diminished ego that was somewhat left was when I started tricking. I was living in abandoned houses or with different johns or drug dealers that I would hope and pray weren’t going to rape me that night. Sometimes I wasn’t so lucky.

I’ve done lots of other terrible things that I could list for hours, literally. I’ve been raped, stabbed, jumped, abused by so many people before and during active addiction, overdosed, committed and been in many programs. By some miracle I have never, ever had an std or any type of infection, last time around I swore I had to have gotten HIV because of how low I had gone and the disgusting men I was sleeping with. I have no kids as well.

I don’t blame anyone but myself for my actions and today take full responsibility for everything I’ve done and have slowly been trying to financially reimburse those I hurt so very deeply, back. I was a complete monster back then and used to accept my fate dying a junkie on the street and used to almost be comfortable with that. I am not the person I was a year and a half ago. It took me getting raped, a gun to my head, getting stabbed and a trip to jail. All of these events occurring in a few hours and were done to me by a dopeboy I was staying with. I had been arrested many times but never actually did time until that. My parents reluctantly bailed me out and sent me back to Florida for rehab.

2. When my boyfriend was out of the country for two weeks, I pawned literally everything of worth in his house, including the vacuum cleaner. My thought was that two weeks was more than enough time to make enough money blowing guys from Craigslist to get all the stuff out of pawn by the time he got back. I spent it all on heroin and coke. It was the night before he was arriving and I, of course, was unable to get any of his stuff out of pawn. So I staged a robbery by breaking one of his windows and leaving the door ajar. I picked him up at the airport, arrived at the house and acted as surprised as him when we discovered all his stuff was gone. Made a false police report and even gave a fake interview to the local paper. I blamed it on a nonexistent gardener who I said I saw snooping around the place. The worst part is that this was right before Christmas, so I told my boyfriend “they” had also stolen $200 in Christmas gifts I had bought. He gave me $200 cash because he felt bad. I was a total piece of shit. Bright side? Rehab finally worked and I just celebrated 3 years of sobriety yesterday! I’m not with the guy anymore. Also, I’m a guy.

3. It’s like having the worst girlfriend ever, who you are madly in love with but who treats you like shit, makes you sell your car and house and furniture and even your high school yearbook that your crush from 10th grade signed and told you that you were cute. She’s told you to stop talking to anyone you’ve ever cared about, they don’t want to talk to you while you’re still dating her anyways.

You sell your clothes so she can go out and buy new ones. You eat ramen every meal so she ca eat at the best restaurant in town. In the morning you think about her and in the evening you think about her and when you go to take a crap but you can’t because you’re constipated you’re reminded of her. You wake up and if she’s not in bed with you you get the chills, your eyes water, you have diarrhea, you sneeze, your muscles ache, you have anxiety, you have depression, you don’t want to eat because food isn’t appealing even though your stomach is rumbling, you don’t particularly want to drink but you’re dehydrated so you force yourself to drink some water, and during all this your skin is crawling as if it was dirty covered in goose-bumps from who knows where and you wish you were still asleep so you could at least pretend she was still in the bed with you.

But you’re awake now. So you get out of bed, and you go find her. Maybe today you won’t have to do something that compromises your morals to find out where she’s gone, but really you don’t even care, as long as there is a way. You walk an hour and forty five minutes to get on the bus. You travel for another 45 minutes on public transportation. You get off at the train station in the bad part of town. All the while you have to shit so bad but you know once you find her that will be solved. You’re hungry but dont want to eat, once you find her you can eat. You feel dirty and sad and anxious but once you find her she’ll bathe you and make you happy and calm.

But right now your walking through the ghetto. You walk another 20 minutes. Maybe it’s cold and raining, if so you are so so so cold. Maybe it’s hotter than hell and that just makes you feel dirtier. You find a guy that knows where she is. He says he’ll go get her and bring her to you. And the cops pass you as you’re talking to him and they have to know what’s up. What’s someone like you doing in this part of town? So the 10 minute wait for her to come back to you accompanied by the guy who could give two shits about you as long as you bring him money seems like an eternity.

Maybe he’ll run off with her and your money. Maybe she wont be looking so hot today, maybe she won’t be herself. Maybe he’ll come back with a woman you don’t know and don’t want to meet but now your money is gone and you’re broke and sick and a good few hours away before you can get some more money and the world might as well be over in your opinion. But your girlfriend comes back, he brings her, and she gives you a kiss on the cheek.

Then you go home, to your mattress and your overdue rent and the lack of food and the piled up bills and the same clothes you’ve been wearing for three days and your parents that have called but you never answer and your friends that invite you out but you never go, but you’re home and she’s there with you. Eventually you go to bed. But she’s never there the next morning, and you know she won’t be, and you wish someone invented a way to pause time, or go back in time, to that first time you met her, the first couple months when you guys hung out, before she made you sell everything to be with her, but you can’t and you’re fucked. And you know it.

4. I am 32 years old, have a well paid job as a professional, live in a huge house with my fiancée and am very comfortable financially. I am also a drug addict.

I work in the healthcare sector in the U.K. as a professional and it took me 5 years to get my degree. My addiction started about 2 months into my first job. I had a really bad headache and as I had access to all sorts of medications, I decided to take some co-codamol (para 500mg and codeine 30mg) for this. This was the worst decision of my life. I instantly felt like I was on top of the world. My body felt light, I was overcome with happiness and everything just seemed so easy and problem free. I told myself this was a one-off but as you have already probably guessed it wasn’t.

Over the next year I gradually had to take more and more of the co-codamol to recreate that “first feeling”. The problem was, I never really achieved this. I went from codeine (which wasn’t monitored very well where I worked) to tramadol to the occasional sip of morphine liquid. I told myself I wasn’t addicted and I could stop whenever I wanted. Nobody at work ever suspected I was stealing drugs or that I was constantly high.

After about a year of this I decided I had to stop doing what I was doing as I was going to lose my job if I got caught. I went cold turkey for 1 week and it was honestly the worst week of my life. On drugs, the whole world seemed so rounded and smooth, without them I constantly felt like everything was sharp and too rough. At the end of the week I decided my life felt better with the drugs and I started using again. That first dose after going cold turkey was just sheer bliss.

I haven’t tried quitting again in 9 years now but I have almost been caught on a few occasions. As I started to need more opiates to feed my addiction, I had to start stealing larger quantities from work. Of course they finally twigged drugs were going missing but I was pretty crafty and the investigation went nowhere near me. I have moved jobs since and I am very careful about what I take and when. I know when suspicion is aroused and I just back off stealing for a few weeks.

There have been some low moments. Going on holiday is a nightmare for me as I don’t want to risk taking prescription drugs through customs to any country. Usually my holidays are me withdrawing badly whilst feigning a “local bug”. 5 years ago I got desperate and smuggled 50 tramadol capsules through Mexican customs. I didn’t get caught but I thought I was going to have a heart attack trying to get past security. Nowadays I just suffer on holiday for a week rather than risk being caught. I have also collapsed twice at work after taking extra strength codeine and dropping my resp rate ridiculously low. Again, I have passed that off as exhaustion and I’m 100% confident nobody suspects I’m a drug addict. I’m excellent at my job as well which helps me keep up the ruse.

Fast forward to today. I’ve been using for 10 years now and I still live in dread of being caught. I just can’t imagine a world without the drugs to keep everything smooth. My fiancée has no idea I’m an addict and I keep my stolen supplies well hidden in our house. I’m actually far too good at lying and being deceitful.

I really don’t know what to do. I know I have a problem and need to stop but at this stage, I’m ashamed to admit I don’t really want to. Taking drugs is normal to me and stopping and withdrawing again makes me feel sick. I’m looking for advice from anyone who is/was in the same boat. Believe me, I know I have a problem and the best thing to do would be to come clean but I’m petrified.

5. I would usually wake up around 6 am to the sound of my dad getting ready for work, and I’d go throw up in my bathroom. If I threw up or pissed the bed I would usually have a garbage bag in the room to throw my sheet in so I could take care of it later. This only happened a few times but it got more and more frequent. Usually the vomit was dark black, goopy, and extremely acidic. I found out later it was blood.

I had a constant supply of tums that I would eat from. I would then drink a bottle of water, a hit from the bong to reduce nausea, and some valium to stop myself from shaking. I would then wake up at around noon and take more valium to stop shaking. I would usually sleep until about 2 or 3pm, sometimes up until 6pm. Once I woke I would take a few shots of captain morgan to keep the constant body high going, and depending on how much weed or valium I had I would try and make some calls to get some more. Around 7pm before my mother left for work I would go through her meds to find Klonopin and Ambien that I could take later in the evening. I was ALWAYS thinking ahead – because I liked to be completely fucked up by around 11pm. She took a quarter of a 10mg of ambien to sleep, and I would usually take about half of her bottle over the month (Between 20 to 60 depending on the script). Denial.

If I wasn’t hanging out with friends that night I would be on the computer all night or with my girlfriend getting wasted and popping valium. Each valium was 10mg and I’d usually take around 20 per day. Eventually I would get really nauseous because I forget to eat, or just took too much, and I’d have to smoke weed and eat more tums. If I didn’t want to stop drinking at this point I would purposefully push the contents of my stomach up and I would vomit violently, and then continue drinking. By the time it was all winding down I would take up to 40mg of ambien. At the time I liked to tell myself this was to sleep, but I always stayed up and drank with it in order to gain more of a body high/psychedelic experience. Usually by this point my girlfriend would be passed out, and I would just be on the computer. Many of these nights I spent crying from 2 am to 5am, either when my dad would wake up and he could console me, or my girlfriend woke up. Needless to say those two and my substances were my only coping mechanisms. Many times my father would come check on me to make sure I was okay every morning.

This was my routine for 3 years until right around age 22. The only thing I have left that reminds me of it is a bald spot of cement on my floor where my black vomit destroyed the carpet, so we had to cut it out. When we got new carpet (they did this when I was in rehab) they left that cut out. Every morning my feet touch the cold reality of the world, and I am ever so grateful that I am alive. Sorry this was long winded. I had a hiccup last night after two years of sobriety and this was really perfect timing for me to write.

6. When I was badly strung out (Opiate addict, polydrug abuser), it was wake up early because I was sick, either get high or scheme to get money. If I got high, I would flop back down and waste away time. If I needed to get high, I would frantically call my girl or my mother to get money. At best, someone had money for me (or someone needed drugs and I’d middleman), at worst I suffered for a bit until I pulled myself up and went to kick in some poor family’s door and take their jewelery, change jar, photo/video shit, laptops and assorted small things that rinsed well. Lots of time was spent driving a 100 mile round trip to an open air drug market. The rest was spent getting high or selling the drugs at huge profit so I could get the next batch (which was always smaller, since the money never got made back entirely). Occasionally an arrest, OD, or change of supplier would shift things a bit. Eventually prison.

Nowadays I’m going to the suboxone clinic 40 miles away once a week. Unfortunately, it’s in the closest open air drug zone. So I take someone’s clean urine, pass my screen and get my script. Then I go and spend every cent a few blocks away, drive home and furiously stick a needle in my arm until the typical $100-150 purchase is gone. Then I wait for the next appointment. I have no motivation to do much of anything. I have virtually no job experience at 25 years old, and a felony record. I live in isolation, having alienated 98% of the people I know. I constantly dream of getting high, and only go through the motions of living. I am a dead man at 25. This course of action will eventually kill me literally, but unless my heart pops from a fat blast of coke, it’ll likely be a long and slow fade away while juggling opiates.

The post This Is What Addiction Is Like appeared first on Caveman Circus.

I’m 38 now. I started drinking in highschool. It became an every day affair by my early 20’s. I was only able to stop two years ago at 36.

It started out as useful and fun. I have panic attacks which alcohol seemed perfect for. It is indeed hard to have one when you’re 10 beers in. Plus I loved to drink. Drinking, smoking, a little pot, it was all fantastic. With the right combination I felt exactly how I wanted to feel, on top of the world.

Eventually it became my identity. I was to many “my funny drunk friend.” At the start of any night I could be witty, gregarious, a great guy to bring out. I was fairly creative, ambitious in my passions. Girls were attracted, some success was had. Things were going well.

It’s hard to pin down when things changed. Friends were getting married, establishing careers; I was still a free spirit who would best them all. Yet increasingly nights were spent by myself. Sure I still felt good with the right mix, but the feeling was harder to nail down. I knew it wasn’t normal to drink like I did, but who wanted to be normal anyway.

In my late 20’s and early 30’s, I began to notice the diminishing returns. I wasn’t where I thought I should be. I was remiss that I didn’t finish college like everyone else. Where was the wife, house and kids I was promised? Somehow the world was cheating me. When I felt down, I could rely on alcohol to forget for a while; occasionally to produce the now clearly unfounded sense of well being. Since I was drinking everyday, I mostly felt bad. Drinking was a return to normal, not better than.

By 36 I was in rough shape physically and mentally. I vomited almost everyday, either in the morning from a hangover, or at night so I could drink more. Headaches, nausea, and a general feeling of being unwell were the norm. Depression had consumed me. I felt numb to most feelings. I spent my evenings crying in front of my computer, watching YouTube. No one called. My life was a treadmill of disappointment, low pay, no career, no girl gave a second look. I hated my life, and I resented alcohol for “making me this way.” Yet I was unable to quit, I tried routinely. I got a DUI on one of my constant drunken drives to the store to get more beer. My hands shook one day uncontrollably. A doctor confirmed my liver was in bad shape. Suicide seemed like a good way to end a waste of a life.

Somehow I had the wherewithal to reach out. I stumbled into a few AA meetings ( they’re not for everyone, see below ). After a few meetings at a group I liked, I had the moment. I said out loud to a group of strangers what I had known for a decade, “I am an alcoholic.” There was progress in that admission. I no longer pretended that I could handle alcohol in any way. I knew that if I continued to drink I would soon be in prison or dead. My drunk driving would ensure that.

I found someone in the group who I could relate to. Ironically for those of you worried about the “god thing,” my sponsor is an atheist like I was, and to some degree still am.

I went to meetings. I worked the steps. In retrospect they are ridiculously simple. I admitted to myself that my life had been a train wreck. I apologized to those I hurt. I made simple steps to make it better. I began to try and help other people, especially others like me who became caught in the alcoholic trap.

In the beginning I ate a shit load of candy and smoked incessantly. I avoided alcohol like the plague. I never went to bars, I had to create distance with some friends. These were all temporary steps to avoid the obsession which often crept in my head.

Eventually the obsession fell away. I had entire weekends which I realized afterward, were spent without a thought of alcohol. I began to get my life back. I did better at work. I went back to school and finished my degree. I quit smoking.

Sitting here two years later feels strange. In some ways my life is the same, in others radically different. I am relieved to be free from my shackles. My life is not grand, but yet it is satisfying.

I increasingly have a sense that joy is found in helping others. My life drinking was spent in constant search of “what would make me happy.” I now am not sure that my own happiness is really that important. Ironically as I move further away from self-seeking, I am more joyful. I’m proud of myself. I’m pleased that I can help. I continue to enjoy life.

If you’ve read this far, please know that you can do this too! There is nothing special about me, and I do not feel it required will power to get sober. If you’re willing to get help, which by being on this sub I feel you are; then you change your life. You do not have to drink!! I wish you much success in your journey. It’s worth it.

The post This Is What Sobriety Is Like appeared first on Caveman Circus.

Life in a Day is a crowdsourced drama/documentary film comprising an arranged series of video clips selected from 80,000 clips submitted to the YouTube video sharing website, the clips showing respective occurrences from around the world on a single day, 24 July 2010

Kyushoku: The Making of a Japanese School Lunch

A Night With Japan’s Highest Paid Male Gigolo

What Physique Champions Eat for The Entire Day

How to Approach Girls 

The post The Dumping Grounds appeared first on Caveman Circus.

A damn fine collection of hot babes – Leenks

Why robocalls have taken over your phone – The Verge

Kim Davis, the Kentucky county clerk who refused to issue same-sex marriage licenses after gay marriage was legalized, lost her bid for reelection – AOL

The Best Beard Trimmer Is Also One Of The Cheapest – Amazon

5 Ugly Truths About Women That Young Men Need to Recognize – Brass Pills

Guy riding motorcyle runs straight into forklift…brutal! – Instagram

Muay Thai Fighter Christian Daghio Dies Following K.O During WBC Title Fight – Sport Bible

10-Year-Old Wisconsin Girl Facing Murder Charge for Killing Baby Sobs in Court – YouTube

A Dead Pimp Just Won An Election In Nevada – VICE

His Worst Nightmare: Teacher Accidentally Plays The Wrong Video In Class – Worldstar

The 10 Benefits of Frozen Dinners – 5 Minutes

This Robot Vacuum Is Better Than A Roomba (And $100 Cheaper) – Amazon

Kids with overprotective parents experience these five problems in adulthood – Psychology Today

A Growing Number of People Are Getting Rich Selling T-shirts Online — With No Overhead, No Inventory, and No Investment – TIME

‘Breaking Bad’ Movie From Creator Vince Gilligan In The Works – Hollywood Reporter

After death, you’re aware that you’ve died, say scientists – Big Think

The Top 100 Foreign-Language Films of All-Time, According to 209 Critics from 43 Countries – Open Culture

Meet LaMelo’s new teammate: 7’7″ teen Robert Bobroczkyi – Sports Gossip

7 Personal Finance Tips For Your 30s – The Art of Manliness

Ariel Winter Halloween costume were pretty awesome – Celeb J

A woman who had a seizure while driving and ran through a crosswalk, killing two toddlers and an unborn child, in March has committed suicide – AP News

7 Places Where the U.S. Dollar Is Really Strong Right Now – Traveler

The video game industry generates more revenue than the film and music industry combined  – KFVS

Hall Of Fame Type Of Body (nsfw) – Erome

The Most Expensive House in the U.S. Has a $245MM Price Tag – Architectural Digest

How to Be a More Patient Person – NY Times

Doctor peforms a breast implant, just like that – Instagram

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Pagando de blogueirinha :v Eai sentiram minha falta? -q Thanks to @fundotcom_ for sending me this Stitch top!

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When she ask to see your phone

Looking at all the people saying 2019 will be a good year

Me after the whole neighborhood watched me attempt to parallel park

That feeling when you finally leave the DMV

When I show up to court and find out my client has picked up a murder charge since his last appearance

When she sucks your dick like a champ and then says "ok your turn to suck mine"

When you start catching feelings

When the midterms are finally over and the media starts talking about 2020

When I’m in line at a busy Subway and the guy in front of me orders 8 subs, all toasted

How your girl looks at you after she’s gone through your phone

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