Starman3082

Hi everyone. 

I have a question that I haven't been able to find any real answers to - or even discussion of - despite searching obsessively around on the internet.

Has anyone ever heard of someone who has "recovered" - whatever they deem that to mean - have their HPPD come back full force after a decent number of years for no reason at all? Say, a decade. 

Further, could any legal drugs cause a large scale relapse after symptoms have faded? For instance, if someone felt they had recovered would they be able to get drunk again without risking bringing back their HPPD? 

I know it's hard to find people with experience regarding these topics since most people that do deem themselves recovered probably stop posting. These thing scare me though. The thought that I could get better over a long period of time and then randomly be thrown back into HPPD hell terrifies me.

Hi everyone.

I've spent the past three months searching through the forum for as much information as I could find about what I've been going through. Figured I'd finally make an account and introduce myself.

I got what I think is a fairly mild case of HPPD in June after ingesting psilocybin mushrooms. I had smoked marijuana for about two years before this, and I'd tried mushroom chocolates once about a year before the onset of my HPPD.

I attend university. During the school semester's the only drugs I used were (a lot) of caffeine and alcohol. I only smoked when I was back home. Having very much enjoyed the trip I had on mushroom chocolates (and another mushroom trip I had over Spring break earlier this year) I was looking forward to dabbling in psychedelics in earnest over the summer.

It turns out that wasn't for me. I acquired more mushrooms and two tabs of what I was told was LSD (don't think it was - some research chemical - probably 2c-e) at the beginning of the summer. I took one tab of the pseudo-acid. Had a great time. Took the other tab two weeks later. Even better.

Then things went askew. I had a 2.5 gram trip with one of my best friends two weeks after taking the 2nd tab of pseudo-acid. The first two and half hours of the trip were fantastic, but then things changed. We had been smoking week while tripping - a first for me - and I think it made things too intense. It might have triggered some paranoia in me. When I got up to use the bathroom at my friend's house I felt out of control. My vision wasn't continuous - it was coming in via delayed single frames. My sense of touch was delayed by about 5 seconds. I began to have my first panic attack.

It was the first bad trip I'd had, and words can't describe the hell it was. I'm sure anyone that has had a bad trip can relate.

I got through the night by watching the minutes ever-so-slowly inch forward on my friend's digital clock. I wasn't so out of it that I had lost my sense of time completely. I remembered when i had eaten the mushrooms so I new roughly when I would come down. I felt shaken the next day, but I got through the night. I felt stronger for it.

Then I got it into my head to do something very stupid. Very stupid. I intended to continue to use psychedelics. I remembered a quote I'd read from George Harrison. He said how he'd had a bad trip once and became afraid of psychedelic substances; however, he overcame his fear by having another positive trip. He confronted his fear and prevented any boogeymen from haunting him.

I was inspired. I wanted to do this. I wanted to confront my fears.

I was overconfident and stupid.

I took what I thought was a very small dosage of mushrooms - less than a gram - a week after my first bad trip. It proved to be too high a dose. As I began to trip I realized I didn't want to trip or feel that way, but it was too late. I had already consumed the mushrooms. I was stuck on the roller coaster ride.

It wasn't a pleasant trip, but it wasn't as bad as the previous bad trip. I kept myself as calm as I could and got through - vowing that I was done with psychedelic substances.

Too late.

The next day I was tired. I hadn't slept much the night before. It's always difficult for me to fall asleep following a trip - even a day trip. I was fine though. That night I went to a fire and hung out with some friends. Sober fun. 

Then I went home. Before I went to bed I took a shower. This was when everything went to hell. Maybe because it was so late and I was sleep deprived - maybe because I had tripped one too many times in too small a time frame - but I felt off. While I showered I felt slightly trippy again. This made me panic.

I got out of the shower and took some of the medication I had been prescribed for anxiety the year before (side note: I had been dealing with small amounts of anxiety - no panic attacks previously - and depression since high school). Seroquel. Stuff I hated for making my brain foggy and work slow, but also stuff that had - without fail - knocked me out. My psychiatrist had told me I could take it as a mild sleep aid.

It didn't put me to sleep though. It made me feel more awake. The areas of my brain that I could feel stimulated when tripping all began to tingle again. I began to shake and convulse. I was having another panic attack. All this happened as I lay in bed. Eventually, after an hour or two I fell asleep. 

I figured things would be better in the morning. They were not. I felt just as awful - out of it. I was afraid I had serotonin syndrome. I drove myself to the ER - more stupidity on my part. There, the doctors stared at me like I had three heads, angrily lectured me, and treated me like trash. They hooked me up to an IV and gave me ativan - a benzo - to calm me down. 

Ultimately, after running some tests on me, they sent me home. They couldn't find anything wrong with me aside from my personal testimonial - which they weren't inclined to lend much credence since I was just some loser in their eyes. The doctor prescribed me four ativan in case I continued to have issues.

The next few weeks were hell. Everything felt wrong. Everything looked surreal - flat. I was depersonalizing and having a difficult time maintaining a continuous sense of self. I'd walk someplace in my house and then completely forget where I was, who I was, or what I was looking for. There was one night - within a week of going to the ER - when I completely derealized. It felt like everything was a dream I was passively watching. I've never been that terrified while sober. Since then I've (luckily) not fully derealized again. Instead I just feel...oddly unteathered from reality.

All of this was accompanied by a tremendous amount of anxiety. I couldn't sit still. I was afraid to go to bed. I couldn't snooze in the morning because within minutes of gaining consciousness I'd feel anxious again. The Saturday night after going to the ER, I took an ativan before going to bed. Two hours later I woke up shaking - having another panic attack. My body should not have reacted that way. No one I have talked to knows why it did. Since then I've been too terrified to take another ativan.

I slowly developed visual snow and slight afterimages to go along with the flattened vision I was experiencing. Sometimes patterned walls would appear to bleed into themselves as if I was tripping. Other times the room would seem to breath like I was coming up. Sometimes when i looked at text on a white computer screen it would appear to wave back and forth. Sometimes, when I closed my eyes the visual snow patterns I'd see would appear to bleed into themselves. It was torture. I didn't want to see the world around me because it felt strange, but I couldn't escape that surrealness by closing my eyes. I felt trapped.

Briefly, I pondered suicide to escape what I was feeling. I probably would have tried to take my life if I hadn't tried to twice before during the previous year. I'd been to those dark places before and come back. It wasn't fun either time. 

I went to see therapists and psychiatrists - none of which were any help. The therapists wanted to frame me as a drug addict - make me feel guilty. I decided that was not a positive way to integrate my experiences into my psyche so I stopped going to see them. I didn't need any more negativity. I often felt like I knew more about HPPD than the psychiatrists I was talking to - having to explain the condition to them. No help there. 

My relationship with my parents was sorely tested. They, understandably, did not react in a graceful manner. My dad was more interested in expressing the anger he was feeling than supporting his son who he knew was in great distress. My mom - having never done any drugs other than alcohol - tried her best to support me but simply did not have any understanding at all of what I was going through. 

More than anything though, I was confronted with the horrific realization that everything I was going to have to deal with everything I was experiencing alone. My parents couldn't help me this time. It forced me to grow up.

During this early time I began obsessively reading these forums, bluelight, shroomery - anything I could to gather information. I decided to commit myself to doing everything I could to aid any possible recovery I might have. I stopped taking any and all drugs - psychedelics, weed, alcohol, coffee, cold medicine, OTC painkillers, everything. I committed myself to eating healthier - more fruits and vegetables - and to exercising 5 to 6 days a week. 

I tried various supplements with varying success. I tried fish oil and flax oil, but both gave me throbbing migraines (which I apparently get now). Eventually, I discovered magnesium - truly a godsend. It helps me relax and makes my visual snow more fine - more easily ignored.

So that became my summer. Recovery. And here I am, three months later, at the beginning of another semester of college. 

I feel infinitely better than I did during those first few weeks. Very little anxiety. I haven't had a panic attack since that night on the ativan. The walls no longer breath. Things no longer look 2D. Patterns rarely bleed into themselves anymore (though a rock wall did today). The bleeding patterns when I close my eyes have almost faded away completely. The visual snow is still there, but it's much less distracting than it used to be. I still have moments when I feel unteathered - slightly derealized - but these moments are happening less and less, and there are moments now when I truly can forget about everything that's happened to me and truly feel normal. 

All of which makes everything sound a little more positive than it is. Like I mentioned earlier, I get mild to decent migraines every so often now. There are still moments when I'm overwhelmed by regret and wish I could rewind time or just feel normal again. I continue to feel slightly off, I continue to remain sober (which often leaves me feeling alienated within the college social scene), and I have a raging case of tinnitus at the moment (I don't know if it's in any way related to HPPD - could it?), but I keep on keeping on. Hopefully, I'll continue feeling better.

Anyway, that's my story. Sorry it was so long. Hopefully there aren't a ton of typos. I didn't really intend to write that much. It just felt very cathartic to let everything out. 

I'm coming here for perspective and support, because - often - I'm still full of doubt regarding the possibility of my recovery. Based on my timetable of symptoms, does it seem like I will make a full recovery?

I know that's the million dollar question that everyone with HPPD would give anything to have answered - and I know it's impossible to know - but I figured I'd ask anyway.

I'm looking forward to getting to know all of you.