Party Vibe

There is too much to say about myself that may or may not fit into this introduction I am giving you, but make something too long then most people will just skim or not read it at all. So to start off my real name is Brett and “Brethus” ((Breath – Us )) came about when a few high, drunk friends blurted it out and it just stuck for years after.

Now, anyway I have another account, Brethus, on Shroomery but have discontinued it because I wasn’t online for awhile so I figured it’d be best if I started fresh and cleaned my slate.

So anyways, as a psychedelic aficionado and hallucinogenic enthusiast, I have come to an absolute conclusion that without the influence of psychedelics I would not be who I am today. No other influence has made me feel they way hallucinogens do, and no other substance has altered my mind to a state of enlightenment and self realization. Psilocybin has made me realize that there is a deeper meaning to life than eat, work, sleep, repeat, but to also enjoy yourself and do what makes you happy. At one point in my life during the Summer when I was 16, I went on an acid binge which I denied accusations of addictions and dependency but deep down I knew I was in love and wanted to take it anytime I could. From about May 20th to September 10th each two to three days I would take either between 2 and 4 hits of acid to enjoy everyday I could.
In hind-sight I believe that binge is responsible for a self-diagnosed case of HPPD which didn’t halt my LSD use.
I can now say I was addicted to the high, but really I just wanted to trip so I could think of the present and not the past experiences that were bringing me into a depression. My depression began when my grandfather; my teacher, my father-figure, my idol, passed away from cancer from smoking for most of his adult life. At that time I never lost someone so near and dear to me that shifted my mind like his death did until recently when my grandmother passed away from heart problems.

With my mind being emotionally torn with the passing of my grandfather, I started to lash out and stop caring about school and the whole 9 yards. I didn’t bully kids or tear up the town, but at 16 I started smoking weed very heavily at my grandmother’s house when I lived with her which caused major problems.
I started throwing parties and taking advantage of my grandmother’s hearing problem by having friend’s over when she fell asleep. We would drink and smoke inside the house while we were all under-age and not giving a shit about the law. All while bringing paraphernalia and eventually shrooms into the house. As time passed my father became aware of my habits and started breaking all my pieces and taking my things away when I didn’t hide them well enough. This happened more and more for a year or so until I was kicked out for stealing money from my grandmother and using her car when I didn’t have a license.
Although I acted as a stupid kid looking to get high my intention was not to use my grandmother but rather be safe under her roof and never go out and get caught by the police, which I never have. Unfortunately, my father saw it as me turning his mother’s house into a trap house and not acting responsible.
But every single day I lived there I helped her get by with daily activities due to complications with muscular distrophy and heart problems. I loved her but in the end when she passed away from heart problems, I fell back into another drug binge.
I rented out her house from my father when she passed away and lived there with four friends. Me and my best friend had minimum wage jobs while one was our weed dealer and the other was just a lazy friend mooching from the house and weed. I smoked weed to be happy and only think of the fun times I was having but when LSD and Ecstasy came into the mix, my depression got even worse due to the crashing on LSD and X made me think about how horrible I was towards my grandmother. I disappointed her until death and I never got to say sorry, goodbye, or I love you because my old boss made me work the day she died when I specifically asked off for that day.

As of now I reside with my friend and his fiance still in depression over the things I’ve done, but as the days go by I can’t seem to reason with myself on why I was such a bastard or why I never realized how important my decisions were. I’ve written a total of 3 suicide notes but never had the guts to end it all, which I am happy for. But the thought is always in my mind that all this shit in my head always comes crashing down on me at times, even during sobriety.

All I know is that I’m pushing to live for the sake of my family still left alive. One time a day or multiple times I will try to be posting to my journal on here, to tell more of my story. If you read all this there is so much more to my story than what I could tell for the community.