I have always wondered about myself. My brother told me once that he was concerned that I would be the one experimenting with drugs and being all “Far OUT , man..” Until the ripe age of 26, I refused to touch any drug that wasn’t prescribed. I drank alcohol, but I can still count my “way too drunk” episodes on one hand. I was almost to the point of “Goody two shoes.”
Then I met the-now-Hubby. I experimented. Now I realize why drugs had very little hold on me.
It turned out to be nothing more than a tired me. I haven’t hallucinated, and I am really no more paranoid than normal, just with the drug(s) I am more relaxed and show it. It’s like drinking without the sick stomach.
I am in no way condoning the use of any illegal substances. I mean, I am an adult and I choose to do an occasional stupid thing.
That’s on me. Anyway, I digress.
This is all set up for a short little tale from my childhood. I have heard that after doing a certain number of hits of acid, one can be considered insane. The stuff like, rewires the brain or something.
Once, while on a small “trip” I wondered: could something that had happened to me as a child have effected how drugs affect me in adulthood? I asked Hubby. He just kinda nodded and shrugged. Now onto the story…
Let me begin by saying I was four. My only actual memory of the incident was thinking, “Mommy doesn’t have to buy mushrooms any more…”
Apparently, I ate a toadstool from the backyard. To this day, I have no idea how my parents found out. I think they saw me eat it. My Dad tells the story and he paints a picture of him feeding me fizzy things and shaking me upside down. Apparently, I have steel for a stomach. No matter how sick I feel, I don’t throw up. It sucks. The only thing that makes me hurl is severe pain. I learned that later on in life. So there I was, thinking I found something fantastic, and my parents are doing whatever they can to make me throw it up. This leads to me having to take several doses of Ipecac…which is also a poison. I am not clear on how I received more than one dose. I know at least one dose was given by my parents and another by some sort of medical person…my guess is at the hospital. So there I was, triple-poisoned, and still not making with the upchucking. I have been told I had to have my stomach pumped. Something tells me I should be glad I don’t remember the experience.
It does make me wonder if the chemicals coursing through me during that incident still affect me. I mean, Mom said it was a toadstool….I remember thinking ...”MUSHROOMS!” I have always been a slightly “off” child. (see below) I don’t remember much from my childhood, either. I remember the injuries…one of which involved my ankle tangling with bike spokes while the bike was still moving…and then there was the time I got my knee caught on a nail as I rounded a corner… I believe the term often used was “accident prone.” My ability to injure wasn’t restricted to only me, either…but that is another blog subject entirely! I remember spending most of my time in a slight dream state. It seriously makes me wonder… “Do I really need any drugs?!”
<----See, I found an old report card. I march to my own drummer...yeppers...that'd be me!
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