A Lot To Unpack (The Last Few Weeks)

Ev R0ck
6 min readFeb 21, 2024

There’s a lot to unpack. The last few weeks were really heavy. fortunately i’m back in my head and i think i can wrap my head around what happened, at least i’m going to try to wrap everyone’ i s head around all of it using this keyboard. that’s what i do, that’s what i love to do and i’ve missed the rhythmic clicking of the keys.

So, where do i start?

I just made it home after two weeks in a psychiatric hospital. i made it past the danger zone of open air crack dealings in the center of town. unfortunately the crack spot is positioned in a place that i cant avoid, because i have to pass it to get literally everywhere. i put blinders on and got on the Q6, the slowest most packed bus i’ve ever been on in my nearly 4 years as a New York City resident.

Jamaica, Queens is the fucking ghetto. if you need crack just go to Sutphin and archer, there are more than a few merchants of that doom across from the train station in front of a smoke shop. i have gone on crack runs to this spot more than a few times, but we’ll get to that when we get to it.

so, yeah, i was in a psych ward for two weeks. what of it? no shame in my game, some of us need help sometimes, and i was definitely in one of those dark times that i couldnt navigate myself out of. my navigational systems were pointing me towards suicide.

i came home today, and i had to throw out a bunch of half started suicide notes that said something about how a good writer should have a good suicide note but never went any further than that.

why?

why would i want to kill myself?

well, it’s really not complicated, it’s actually quite logical and scientific. so: i spent a year and change prescribed to adderall in a controlled residential rehab environment. once the control was gone, and i moved into an apartment, i abused the adderall about as hard as one can abuse it. i loove stimulants, E is for Ev, and E is for Extra. i always wan’t that extra boost when you abuse the medication , you run out well before the refill date, and you’ve got to crash and withdrawl. adderall is amphetamine salts. so, i was on a speed crash.

a speed crash is pretty seriously depressing, and lasts about two weeks. inside my speed crashing, something else happened.

i already wrote about it a few posts ago, i’ll just summarize it. a pretty girl i knew in rehab funded a week long crack binge. every time we did it, we told each other it was the last time. every next day, it would happen again, i’d get that text that it was gonna be another crack binge in a hotel in queens that you could rent hourly. it was horrible.

i alerted our shared outpatient counselor. i did. i blew up the spot because i i could never decline the texts that said “hey, lets do it again”. this young woman from the rehab…well she didn’t appreciate that very much, and so the crack supply dried up, as my wallet was empty and she wasn’t paying for it anymore.

speed crash + crack crash= ultimate depression as fuck. the next few days are blurry.

you cant see out of that kind of darkness, at least i couldnt. the only way i’ve ever thought to kill myself was the plan: go get heroin, which is fentynyl from 36th street and overdose, having no opiate tolerance, it wouldnt be more than 20$. two bags do the trick, 20$ on 36th street between 7th and 8th avenue in the Garment District. i picked up my monthly adderall prescription, and sold it for way less than it was worth to get heroin and xanax.

i think i overdosed 3 separate times.

i can only share a snapshot of one of the memories waking up in the intensive care unit on 77th street, at lennox hill hospital on the Upper East Side. i have no fucking clue how i ended up there, i never go up there.

I remember having all of these IV tubes in my arms. i remember waking up and telling the doctors that i needed to get going, because i had things to do.i remember the doctor telling me that one of the the IV’s was keeping me breathing and if i were to disconnect i’d go back into overdose state, with repository failure.

i think that was the first of 3 overdoses in 3 or 4 days. the last one was my roommate finding me at the bottom of our staircase, and calling 911.

here’s the thing: there was something in me that wanted to survive. when i was not turning blue somewhere i was crying out for help to every outlet i could. sending emails to counselors who sent police and EMTs to my house for a wellness check. i of course melted down on social media, that’s what i do. i got so many messages from people i havent spoken to in years that apparently read my blog. so, most of me was trying to jump off the ride, but at least some of me was trying to hold on tight.

if you read my blog, or know me on facebook and the other things. you’re going to watch me slip. i don’t post the highlight reel, i share the entire experience. if you know an addict, you’re gonna watch them struggle, and you likely won’t understand why. you understand why about as much as i do, and it’s like “oh what the everloving fuck, c’mon”.

i eventually went up to washington heights to new york presbyterian hospital, on 168th street and told them what was going on. i was admitted to Gracie Square Hospital, grippy socks and all.

it’s not fun, psych ward life. you walk in circles around the nurses station for all your waking hours, because there isn’t anything else to do. you see a psychiatrist for roughly 10 minutes a day. the nurses are burned out and bitchy, the food sucks, and people lose their shit all day. they get thorazine injections in the butt, and get thrown in the rubber room or restrained to a hospital bed. all day.

it wasn’t fun, but it was neccesary.

my mood disorder had’nt been properly treated in years, and adderall was never a good choice for my medicaton regimen. i know i’ve posted a lot of things about not trusting psychiatry but i have to say: i got put on a mood stablizer that i was on years ago, and it changed everything. i started my two weeks there hallucinating, and unable to disconnect dreams from reality. i was obsessing with thoughts of smoking crack cocaine in my first couple of days in some kind of waking nightmare state.

Right now, The Ev is in balance. i do not want to do things that harm me, i avoid the corner boys on sutphin and archer, i’m going to eat candy and ice cream, i’m going to smoke newports and drink french pressed expensive coffee, i’m going to have about 8 dumplings and i’ll be asleep by 9. i feel good, but not too good.

i’m so grateful for the outpouring of support that i saw in my apps when i got out of the hostpital and turned my phone on. i’m so grateful i still have a phone, and a place to live. this has not been the case most of the times when powerful drugs have taken the steering wheel of this body i drive around in the physical realm.

thank you, i hope this sufficiently describes what happened for those paying attention.

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