A necessary spilling of details from the time in which I "killed myself"

This was about 5 years ago before I knew of my PTSD for what it was. I kind of needed to kick myself out of me, the brutal impact of traversing my every-day world of people I felt I wasn't even like and did not belong with.

It is not like I thought of it that way at the time. My focus was far further zoomed in on the interest/obsession. Somehow it gave me something to fixate on to wipe my bothersome identity out, of course my standard mode of escapism, just mixed with exploration into the psychoactive.

I am not trying to make an excuse for what I did, but I am trying to spill details that I have been unable to communicate to anyone. I doubt that there will be any ultimate negative consequence to my actions, except, now I will never know if what I did during this time was equivalent to "killing myself" that some PTSD sufferers have described. I won't know because this is what I did, and now I feel how I feel. Did I begin to feel like that before, leading to that response? Or Did I alter something somehow, leaving me worse off as a human being than before?

With DXM, in essence once you attuned yourself to its effects, the net result was a very strangely pleasant removal of yourself from yourself. I can't explain it. The 2nd to 3rd plateau followed very euphoric and audio-altered mood in the 1st, wherein your physical grounding to your body kind of faded until you no longer felt confined by the identity of your single person.

At the top of 2nd, it began to feel like you were the room, the chair/surface you were on, or sometimes more abstract than the immediate physical surroundings. Being up to the 3rd would remove the ability to really walk or any desire to, pull you out of your body just to sit inside your mind only. Most people never really want to exceed the 3rd plateau as on the 4th you really need a sitter, it's more or less a blackout point unless you practiced, according to my research.

It didn't always work, sometimes I would just get a little sick as if I was being kicked around in a freefall-space. But rarely. I remember hanging on to the edge of the toilet on a few occasions, trying not to get flung off, occasionally throwing up.

It's difficult to say for how long my fixation on this interest persisted, when it started or stopped. I want to say early 2007. It is worth noting that this occurred alongside normal life. I went to work, plenty of days I dose at work, and did not wreck my life. Just kind of watched myself doing my life, not really there.

I am pretty sure that the sudden suicidal ideation spree that I had in Summer 2008 was directly within this same time period. It probably marks the peak, or breaking point, of that moment in time I am describing.