Drug Addiction Stories & Info

This time of year brings back memories, most good and a few that are sad. It’s a time of enjoying a break from school, taking vacations, people getting married. With me, though, it’s a time of reflection because not only is it summertime, it is also the anniversary of a time when my little sister hit her lowest point.

Summer was always beautiful. She was vivacious, well-liked, enthusiastic and loved life to no end. She was a sports fanatic and always the first to sign up for a team. She had a big heart and was always the first to sign up to help with a volunteer project.

Then came that early summer day when our small town was hit by a tornado. Summer’s best friend and her family were killed. My little sister was devastated. She seemed to lose her will to live and over that summer we noticed other changes. At first, we thought it was still depression over her friend’s death, but eventually we realized that Summer was on drugs.

When our parents confronted her, she denied it at first. She turned it around on them, asking how they could even think such a thing. They apologized.

But as summer ended and fall approached, bringing with it the beginning of Summer’s senior year, her mood swings escalated. One day, I came over with my little girl who was three at the time and I went into Summer’s room and did a search. I found some pills and some white powder. My little sister was indeed, on drugs.

That afternoon, we confronted her again, this time as a family with our pastor and a drug counselor in the room as well. Again Summer denied it till we showed her the evidence. Then she broke down. We were all crying when she said she felt guilty about being able to go on with the plans that she and her best friend had made, going to college, sharing a dorm room, going after their dreams.

“It’s not fair! I can’t do this without Shari, it’s not fair to her!” Summer cried.

The drug rehab counselor spoke up then. “Summer, the best thing you can do for Shari is make sure that you DO follow those dreams and fulfill your goals. If you give up, it makes Shari’s life seem meaningless and you know that isn’t so. Do this for you and for her.”

Then Summer told us something that shocked us. She said that she was planning to commit suicide on the six-month anniversary of Shari’s death. We all cried again as she agreed to get treatment.

That was ten years ago. Summer got into rehab, then finished school a semester late. We didn’t care, we were just grateful she was still with us. She went on to college, here at home instead of off somewhere else though, because she wanted and needed our support as she was still grieving. Then she got a job in the big city a hundred miles away and today she is living her dreams.

In the morning I am leaving to go spend a month with her. Every year I am there with her for a month as she gets through the anniversary of Shari’s death. I go to her meetings with her and we bond as sisters. She’s doing good and I am making sure she knows she has me. When Summer falls, her big sister and her support group are there for her. I sometimes think Shari’s above, watching over her and being there for her, too.

He had been coming to church with us for several weeks. I loved him and we had a history together. He was my cousin and our families had always been close. Still, as teens, I went off to college and Jamie turned to drugs. While in college, I met the guy I was to marry and moved to the northeast with him. A promotion and transfer brought us back to the south in the city closest to my small home town.

One day, I ran into Jamie. He grabbed me and said “Cousin! I’ve missed you!” I barely recognized him. The drugs had made him seem older than he was. Still, he was my cousin and I loved him and was happy to see him.

As time went by, I noticed that Jamie’s perception of things was vastly different than that of most people. He insisted events happened that never did or didn’t that everyone else clearly remembered. He even became adamant that he knew things more experienced people didn’t, such as the night we were in a restaurant and a person had a heart attack. Fortunately, a doctor was there with his family and was able to aid the person until the paramedics arrived but Jamie began yelling that the doctor didn’t know what he was doing. Jamie said he was certified in CPR and he was, in high school during a class that we were all taught nearly 20 years earlier. But that was no match for a doctor’s skills and here was my cousin, starting a ruckus as my husband and I steered him out of the restaurant.

We began inviting him to church. He went for three weeks and then one morning, as I called to let him know we were on our way, a stranger answered the phone. He identified himself as a police officer. My cousin Jamie had overdosed and his roommate had called it in. The paramedics had been unable to revive him.

My heart broke at the news. Jamie had needed help. I had talked him into going to church but he had refused rehab and was trying to stop on his own. With friends and a roommate in that lifestyle, overcoming addiction had turned out to be impossible.

That was two years ago. To this day I miss the Jamie I grew up. I just wanted to share this because I want others to know that if they hooked on drugs, rehab really is the way to go. So please, do it for yourselves, for your families and for those who no longer have that opportunity…like my cousin, Jamie.

I’m writing this email hoping you will share it on your site. Several years ago I was in just as bad a shape as a lot of people who write or comment on these stories. I moved around every few months, never knowing what school I would be going to when the new month arrived. That’s how chaotic my childhood was.

Mom was always out partying and doing drugs. I was raising my little brother and sister. My older brother was bringing in what money he could to keep us from getting utilities shut off. He was only 17 and I was 15.

I knew back then I never wanted to have kids. To this day I still don’t have any only now I regret it. But still, in a way I feel like I raised my younger siblings so I do sort of know what it feels like to be a mom.

Our mom went partying one night and never came home. A few days later, she was found dead, along with some guy. They both had been shot. The police said it was a murder/suicide. Both were found to have drugs in their bodies.

My older brother took care of us. As soon as I was 18, he joined the military and sent us money. As soon as my younger brother and sister got out on their own, I felt sort of empty. People said my brother and I did a good job but everyone had moved on to their own lives. Me, I moved on to repeat my mom’s mission in life, getting stoned.

I hid it well for awhile, but eventually it took over and I lost a couple of jobs over it. Then one day my brothers and my sister confronted me. They said it was time to do for me. They helped me get into a rehab program. My siblings saved my life.

I ultimately decided to help others the way I had been helped. I began to feel needed again just as I had when raising my younger brother and sister. By then I had found out that I could not have children of my own anyway, even if I had wanted them, but this feeling of being needed restored me. Sure, sometimes the urge for a joint or some coke gets really strong, but I head to a meeting and it passes. Not as easy as it sounds in this email, but anyone who has been there knows what I mean.

I hope you can print my email. I want to tell others who might feel like there are no second chances and that there is nothing to live when you are addicted to drugs to take heart. I now have a full life and I have been married over a year to a wonderful man I met through wonderful friends. I enjoy every day of my life and when things get hard and those urges for a fix get to me, I go to a meeting. When I help someone else who seeks help through my work at the local center, I feel that second chance all over again. It is out there for you, too.