I never spoke on this before...but I will now cause it's now officially behind me.
But for almost two years I was addicted to MDMA. I mean...BAD. I mean, not sleeping for days. Living like a meth addict. Reduced to feeling like a fukking junkie. I've been clean for a while now. The trials and tribulations I went through last year nearly killed me, and the drug abuse was a way for me to feel better.
It started when I moved to NYC, and found people that were selling MDMA/ectasy through going to warehouse parties, raves, and club gigs. Then instead of doing it at the club I was doing it full time....atleast twice a week. IT was getting terrible. My work life suffered because of it...and the depression I was going through working as an insurance broker on wall street while trying to find an apartment and trying to keep the money flowing on a consistent basis made it worse.
Eventually after a while, I just decided to give up on that job...and secluded myself in a hotel room doing Molly literally almost every day.
There were many factors that led to this. The job I hated (which seemed like such a godsend...even though the money was good I hated it), not having intimacy with a woman since 2012 at that point...feeling like I was an underachiever and everyone else was doing better than me (especially cause I was homeless...living in my car...when my car crashed...I had to use whatever money I made from work to get a hotel room or stay at the YMCA), and just in general my battles with depression.
I had many moments during my period of addiction where I legit thought I was going to die. Like taking too much molly to the point my heart was beating out of my chest and I thought I was going to have a heart attack.
After a while, the people in my circle were no longer on that so I had no enablers. And I had to stop going to my dealer because the spot got too hot (literally the last time I went to score, there were 4 police officers looking into the hallway of the APT building as I walked out and four cop cars waiting outside).
I'm happy I'm alive now to tell the tale.
Now I got serious with life. REturning to designing clothes helped me to realize that I still had value as an individual and others saw that value.
But for almost two years I was addicted to MDMA. I mean...BAD. I mean, not sleeping for days. Living like a meth addict. Reduced to feeling like a fukking junkie. I've been clean for a while now. The trials and tribulations I went through last year nearly killed me, and the drug abuse was a way for me to feel better.
It started when I moved to NYC, and found people that were selling MDMA/ectasy through going to warehouse parties, raves, and club gigs. Then instead of doing it at the club I was doing it full time....atleast twice a week. IT was getting terrible. My work life suffered because of it...and the depression I was going through working as an insurance broker on wall street while trying to find an apartment and trying to keep the money flowing on a consistent basis made it worse.
Eventually after a while, I just decided to give up on that job...and secluded myself in a hotel room doing Molly literally almost every day.
There were many factors that led to this. The job I hated (which seemed like such a godsend...even though the money was good I hated it), not having intimacy with a woman since 2012 at that point...feeling like I was an underachiever and everyone else was doing better than me (especially cause I was homeless...living in my car...when my car crashed...I had to use whatever money I made from work to get a hotel room or stay at the YMCA), and just in general my battles with depression.
I had many moments during my period of addiction where I legit thought I was going to die. Like taking too much molly to the point my heart was beating out of my chest and I thought I was going to have a heart attack.
After a while, the people in my circle were no longer on that so I had no enablers. And I had to stop going to my dealer because the spot got too hot (literally the last time I went to score, there were 4 police officers looking into the hallway of the APT building as I walked out and four cop cars waiting outside).
I'm happy I'm alive now to tell the tale.
Now I got serious with life. REturning to designing clothes helped me to realize that I still had value as an individual and others saw that value.
