Secrecy And Shame Fuelled My Chemsex Problem

Article about gay London in QX magazine.

Chemsex has been heralded as a significant contributing factor to rising HIV transmissions among gay men. Both are fuelled by stigma; both are damaging our community. Here Keiran* talks about how it’s time to end the shame that has a stranglehold on vulnerable guys.

 


Hours before I injected mephedrone and crystal meph into my arm, I’d messaged a few friends asking what their plans were for the weekend. Everyone was either too busy to hang out or had plans I couldn’t afford. Having spent most of the summer going to parties and blowing my wages on mephedrone, then mephedrone and G, then mephedrone, G and crystal meph, money was tighter than ever.

I wasn’t interested in doing anything exciting; three months of staying awake for whole weekends at a time tends to leave you either wanting to do nothing but sleep, or pump yourself full of artificial energy to make it through another 48 hour session. It was the latter I was desperately trying to avoid. Despite being broke, I knew I’d be able to find a way, whether it was another payday loan – a monthly occurrence by this point – or intentionally looking for a drug buddy who’d be grateful enough for my company to pay my way. Usually, someone older.

I got in from work that Friday evening, had a massive dinner (if I’m bloated I’ll be too tired and insecure to spend my night walking around a stranger’s flat naked) and went to bed. The quicker I fall asleep, I thought, the quicker it’ll be Saturday, and I’ll have rescued myself from another all-weekender.

An hour later I was on Grindr, chatting to a guy. He offered to pay for everything, including my taxi fare. The condition? He was going to be slamming, and I had to be okay with that. I wasn’t, but after sniffing half a gram of the emergency mephedrone I kept in my wardrobe, I headed over.

“It lowered the bar of acceptable behaviour that I had set for myself. It was my new limit”

It was the first and last time I injected drugs. I’m not going to discuss the sensation, because it’s not important in this context. What’s important is that it lowered the bar of acceptable behaviour that I had set for myself. It was my new limit. And anything leading up to it was, by extension, more acceptable. My use of mephedrone, G and crystal meth via pipe shot up.

It took a couple more months of turning up high to my city job, isolating myself from friends and family, and taking inordinate amounts of drugs all weekend, every weekend, for me to realise that I was spiralling into addiction. I spoke to a couple of mates from the party scene who reported similar issues. We hung out together one weekend for support. We got high.

I managed to drag myself out of the cycle around three months ago. I’d force myself to leave London before cravings kicked in on a Friday night. I even broke my phone on purpose so I couldn’t get on Grindr. I still enjoy drugs, but my use is no longer secretive. Chemsex is finished with, chill outs are pretty much gone – just nights out with friends that end after 6 hours. I’ve never believed that going cold turkey has to be the answer, and I’ve gotten back to a place where I enjoy drugs in a sociable way. I couldn’t believe how quickly I could break the chemsex cycle once I’d created a physical barrier.

But that barrier wasn’t easy to build. The night I injected drugs, and ended up running from my drug buddy as he became threatening (a reaction to the crystal meth). I spent hours waking the streets London, wondering what would have happened if I’d reacted badly to the hit. That fear forced me to re-evaluate. But I shouldn’t have needed to get so low to start clawing my way back out.

What made the chemsex scene such a trap was that nobody from my real life knew I was there. When I disappeared for three days at a time, they didn’t know I needed rescuing – because I was too ashamed to tell them what I was up to.

Shame enables addiction like nothing else. It allows addiction to grow, undisturbed. Most of the recent articles about chemsex have focussed on why it starts – the truth is, for most it starts because drugs are fun and boys are cute, and you’re never going to change that. Nor should we have to. The solution to the issue is interrupting patterns of problematic behaviour.

As I said, just before injecting drugs, I’d contacted my friends asking about their plans. Really, what I should have said was “I’m becoming addicted to drugs, and I need you to sit with me all weekend and make sure I don’t do anything stupid”.

But I didn’t. I was scared of the reaction. I didn’t want to be gossiped about. I didn’t want people to lose respect for me. Disclosing my problem would mean exposing a very vulnerable part of me. And keeping that vulnerability hidden was more important to me than my health.

You want to solve the chemsex crisis? Let your friends know, whether you think they’re struggling or not, that they can call you and you’ll sit with them all weekend and make sure they don’t do anything stupid. No judgement. No shame.

*Name changed to protect anonymity

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