Let’s start at the beginning of the end of everything.
This is how me and “K” got together and how she rode the shit out of me for three years. We’re going to call Kratom “K” from here on out. I like naming things. It gives them a personality, a life of their own. It’s been said that once you name something, you own it. In the case of K, she owned me. I wasn’t looking for her, but in a way I suppose I was. Aren’t we all looking for something, all the time? Us addicts certainly are. We’re not consciously searching for that next big thing – that distraction, the shiny new thing, that high – but in a way I think we are. And if something like K slithers into the room we’re gonna notice her.
My job in 2017 involved driving. All the time. 3400 miles every month. That’s a lot of sitting. You see where this is going? All that driving and sitting doesn’t do anything good to your back. Mine was already fucked anyway. Years of retail work meant lifting every goddamned case of Coke and Gatorade and just heavy shit for ten hours a day, every day. It will wreck you. I’m not gonna go into the boring doctor visits and the blah blah here’s some ibuprophen have a nice day bullshit stories. You know them. You’ve lived them. Basically it was have a surgery that might paralyze you or might fix you or keep going to work and fuck all. So I went with the fuck all. I figured a life stooped over was better than a life of bedpans and Farmville. But the stooping got bad. I couldn’t even sit in the car without the pain tearing from my back down my legs. And getting out of the car? I must’ve looked ridiculous stretching one leg out, then 5 minutes later stretching another out – after I’d managed to slowly swerve my ass around in the seat – IF I even got that far. I should mention at the time I was 41, 42. Not my idea of an old man. But I felt like one. And that sucks. I needed something. Anything.
I have a distant memory of the day K came into my life. Just kind of a feeling, a few details. I remember it was a rainy day, but other than that just a regular day. No impending doom & gloom for what was about to begin. No dreams warning me, no voices telling me I’d be dead in exactly three years because of today. I was Googling natural pain remedies. And there she was. An innocent header on the internet – “Kratom, all-natural pain reliever”. We’ve all heard that one before, right? But something made me immediately jump on Reddit and see what, if anything, I could find about this KRAHH – TOM. Nobody says it right, I swear I’ve heard like ten different fucking ways to mispronounce what is a very simple word. It’s KRAY – TUM. Reddit didn’t disappoint. Holy shit there was subreddit after subreddit detailing the miracles of this little legal green devil. It would wipe away your pain, it would give you your life back, you could dream again, work again, fuck again AND it felt like a Vicodin.
“Excuse me, what?”
And so I spent the next few hours reading everything I could about people’s experiences with K. In retrospect, I probably should’ve lingered on the withdrawal forums a bit more or read about the people living in their cars because they spent all their money on K. But you know how we are – why ruin my amazing discovery with a couple of babies who had the shits in their cars?
Now, I had to find where I could buy this superhero plant, like – NOW.
That’s a whole other story, the first of many stories that don’t end well.
I’ll tell you about that particular hell next time…