Drug Addiction Stories

Thank you for visiting this blog on drug addiction stories.

You will not be disappointed.

The drug addiction stories told on this blog are true or based on real events.  This site gives the reader the best insight and look into a drug addiction.  For too long the truth and real facts about drug addiction have been masked or hidden.  Too many people choose to avoid these truths, but we truly hope that by reading this blog you can get an insight and in turn help someone you love. These drug addiction stories are important, because they tell the stories of people experiencing the horror of a drug or alcohol addiction.

We hope you enjoy this blog, and please make comments on what you have read.

Must read drug addiction related articles:

• Top Ten Drug Addiction Myths
• David Bowie’s Cocaine Addiction
• Drug Addiction 101
• Top Ten Reasons People Use Drugs
• Top Ten Signs of Drug Addiction
  

I sat there with the other inmates and watched her walk out the door. People come and go when you are in the tank. I had been here myself this time about seven or eight weeks. I had heard all of the stories, nothing was ever anyone’s fault. I certainly played the blame game myself, having been an LVN and losing my license and control of my life to my addiction to heroin. 

She was different, though. She was actually a few years older than me. She did not blame society, other people or anyone but herself for what she had done. Her name was Nora and she also held her head high, saying she would do the same thing again. When her story got out around the tank, some people scoffed. Most of us who had been in repeatedly knew the score. She was definitely a different breed.

I stole drugs from the clinic where I worked. She wrote several hot checks. I stole prescription sheets from the doctor I worked for and wrote bogus ’scripts for non-existent patients, then traded them off for heroin. She fed her kids with the checks she wrote at grocery stores. She said it was wrong, but when you have a sick kid, you can not work because of his medical care schedule and no one is around to help, you do what you have to when it comes to your kids.  It was her choice.  She made no excuses. 

I stole to feed my addiction. She stole to feed her kids. I blamed everything else. She blamed herself. I looked around at those of us in the tank who had blames exes, parents, friends, bosses. She quietly went about her business the few days she was there reading. One of the long term women began picking on her. She ignored it. When a young girl came in terrified and was picked on, however, the mama bear in her came out and she stood up to the cell block bully bitch and would not back down. The bully went to the guard to the complain and was shocked when the rest of the women stood up for Nora. They were sick of the bully behavior themselves.

When Nora left, those of us left behind had the usual feelings of jealousy, wishful thinking and resentment mixed with being happy for her. I watched her leave, took a breath and went over to the phone and called my own mother collect. “Mom, it’s me. When I get out next week, will you drive me over to the rehab center? It is my fault I am in here and on drugs. I want to get cleaned up for good this time.”

I had forgotten this feeling. One of freedom and euphoria without drugs. A feeling of remembering every part of the day and evening without blackouts associated with it. My experience with drugs is parallel to the ups and downs of Mother Nature.

I had been a pretty normal teenager. Stayed out of trouble, decent grades in high school and enjoying extra curricular activities such as sports and drama club. Then I got into the college of my dreams but at the same time, my dad died. Suddenly I was facing financial problems because my mom was barely getting by with two more kids left at home. There was no life insurance, my dad worked at a factory.

I worked two jobs and went to school. Then one night I took off and went to a party with a friend from Theater class. That was the night I tried heroin for the first time and the night I my life changed for the second time.

Life during that time was like Mother Nature: storm warnings, dark clouds, volcano eruptions. I was missing class and missing work but barely made it through my freshman year with Cs and Ds. Over the summer, my mother caught the changes and went Hurricane Mom on me. She told me that she was not going to let me throw my life away and that I owed it to myself and to the memory of my dad to get help. She got me into drug rehab.

The treatment program was a God send. The counseling not only helped me work out the tools I needed to get clean but it also helped me with the grief I still felt over my dad dying. I spent most of the summer in the program and after talking to my mom, decided to finish college locally so I could live at home and have my family’s support.

I am a junior now. My sophomore year was a lot easier. Sure, it would have been nice to stay at the college that had been my first choice but in the end, I know that being with Mom and my brother and sister is best for now. My mom and I have long talks and she is my best friend.

These days I feel like someone who has been released. I still miss my dad but I know that he is up there somewhere watching over me. My dad loved the ocean and when I walk along the coastline not too far from our home, I know he is out there watching over me, my mom and my brother and sister. I feel the calm presence of the sea and I remember the times my dad used to run along the shoreline and we would along behind him. I love being drug free again and feeling those old feelings and memories.

Valentine’s Day is coming soon. As I walk along the beach, I think about her. I loved her more than I had ever thought it possible to love anyone. She was my soulmate or so I thought. As much as I loved her, though, she loved heroin more. We were in our mid-twenties when we met, both working second jobs at a pizza place after our regular jobs. She was a single mom, I was a guy with a dream. I wanted to own my own home, meet a great lady and raise a family. I thought with her I had it all.

I came to realize she did not have custody of her daughter. I found out she had been in trouble in the past due to drugs. Still, I was falling in love with her. One Valentine’s Day on our North Carolina coastline, I wrote in the sand “Will you marry me?” She cried as she said yes. I just knew our lives together were just beginning.

Within a couple of weeks, though, she started withdrawing from me. I found out she had failed a drug test needed for her to regain custody of her daughter. She began spiraling down again in her heroin addiction. I begged her to get help. She snapped at me. I went back to my own apartment that night. I called her several times but we would just argue and she would hang up.

The next day she did not show up at the pizza place. Concerned, I called to check on her and make sure she was okay. Her sister answered the phone. She told me that my beautiful fiancee had just succumbed to a heroin overdose. The paramedics were still there trying to revive her but it was too late.

I still walk the coastline where I proposed to her. She has been gone four years now. I am okay most of the time except when it comes to special occasions. When I see other couples holding hands, I have to look away. Every Valentine’s Day I write in the sand “Love”. Then I watch it until the water eventually carries it out to sea where my heart still waits for her. I loved her so much but I could not convince her to get help. She loved her heroin more than her daughter and she loved it more than she loved me.  Just as the sea washes away the word LOVE I write in the sand, heroin washed away her ability to think and care about what was important in life.