Drug Addiction Stories

As I sat in the group session, I felt for the first time like I was not alone. I saw others, men and women, who had been where I was. Sure, we have come a long way here in America and women are allowed to go to war for the country they love, but still, it is hard and with several of my friends having died over there, plus being the only girl in my group of friends who had gone the military route, I felt alone as Memorial Day approached.

That may be why it was so easy to just go along with my friends a year ago when they talked me into going to the party and why I accepted the powder that cute guy gave me. The chance to forget for a few hours what perhaps no one in the room had been through? I was all for that!

But that night started a spiral of addiction to cocaine. My family soon noticed the difference but were unsure if it was related to my service or what. I didn’t have the heart to tell them it was a little of both. I couldn’t sleep without seeing my friends’ faces, the ones that died in Iraq. I couldn’t sleep without being back over there. Now, the craving for forgetfulness was marred by the craving for cocaine.

Eventually, my family figured it out and my parents approached me. My dad had never been in the military because of his back and both my parents were only children. With three daughters, I was the oldest and the one who went into the Army and then to war. Still, my heroes are most assuredly my parents as both had a discussion with me one night with my sisters, some friends, an uncle of my mom’s who had served in the military and an intervention counselor.

This Memorial Day is one I can now look upon with strength because I know that my survivor’s guilt is a common feeling. I know that having others to talk to who have been there, even if it means a 3 hour drive for my family, is worth it in order, as they say, to “get the old me back”.

It still kind of makes me nervous when someone who knows I was in the Army says thank you to me. I still think the real heroes died over there. But I am learning to deal with the nightmares without turning to cocaine. I am learning to pause and take a breath without worrying that I don’t have time to think because a bomb could go off. I am learning to see children here and realize that they are innocent and lucky just as I am lucky to live in this country. And every now and then, when I am able to get to a meeting and stop the urge for cocaine, I can almost hear my combat buddies who died whispering “Good Soldier” to me as I get through another day.

I looked up as I was helping at the Food Bank and saw him. His face lit up in a big smile and he came over and hugged me, saying “Hi, Sis.” I was so happy to see him. Once a month, just like clockwork, my brother David was there with his friends seeking some groceries. Once a month was all I saw him. 

David is a drug addict. He has been on meth and cocaine off and on for nearly 30 years and while he has been in rehab several times, he seems to backslide as soon as he gets out. The drugs have destroyed his ability to understand a lot of things and he gets memories mixed up in a big way. He insists that so and so happened at such and such time and it is easier to just nod in agreement than to argue with him.

Some of the family cringe when they see him coming or when the county jail number shows up on caller I.D.. but when I see him at the Food Bank, I am reminded of the big brother I had way back when. He goes around excitedly telling everyone I am his baby sister. Sometimes he does not have his identification on him but they know him as he is a regular. They just look over at me, asking if I vouch for him being who he claims to be and I say yes, he is my big brother and I give him a big hug.

My brother was not always a drug addict. Being the oldest, he played sports and the prettiest girl in school crushed on him. But shortly after they graduated, before they got married, she was killed in an accident along with her sister and parents, and David took to using drugs. He changed almost overnight.

The family tried in many ways to get him to get help over the years. Our younger brother is always bailing him out of jail when he is found walking around in the middle of night, unsure of where he is. An officer told us he was looking for Tara. I cried. Tara had been his high school sweetheart, the one who died.

Still, for just a moment when our eyes meet across the room, I see the big brother I love inside of the man who threw everything away for drugs. Sometimes I pray that Tara is up there somewhere and sees David and how much he needs help. For a long time I didn’t believe that…until last week.

I woke up this morning to news of a deadly shooting spree. It took me back to a few years ago when I lived in New York. To the night when my friends and I were so messed up on cocaine. To the night when we decided to go flirt with some guys down at the corner bar. 

We walked in and looked around for them. We were so messed up and giggly and stumbling around. Then it seemed like everyone was pointing at us. Suddenly, I heard gun shots and people screaming. It seemed like it was all in slow motion. I turned around and saw a guy in a mask pointing a gun at us. He shot it just as he fell backwards, from what I later learned was a gun kept behind the counter and used by one of the bartenders.

My best friend fell down. I looked at her, not believing she was gone. She was. My other friend grabbed a couple of drinks from the bar and splashed us both so it would seem as if we were drinking. The cops bought it. They could tell everyone was shaken up in the bar.

I called my parents later that night and they drove from New Hampshire the next morning to get me. They took one look at me and they could tell. I was not the same Tania they knew. Before the sun was down I was in a residential drug treatment program. Not only did I get clean, the counselors there helped me to get through some of the trauma I had gone through that night at the bar when my best friend died.

I am doing better these days. I moved down south near my cousin and went to work at the company she works for. Still, when I wake up to news of a shooting spree like I did this morning, it brings it all back. I picked up my cell phone and called a friend in my NA group. She listened for a bit. It helped. I went to work and then went to a meeting right afterwards.

There, I can pull out the picture I keep in my wallet of me and Angie. I can show them and they know, many of them having lost someone. See, I feel like I lost my best friend not just through a shooting spree, but also because we were messed up on coke that night and wandered down to the corner bar. Maybe if we hadn’t been on drugs, we would have been at the movies or a party or somewhere else and she would be here today.

It’s still on the news, having only happened this morning. But with the help of the meeting and my sponsor, I am able to get through it. My heart goes out to those who are starting a nightmare of deja vu I live nearly every day, a nightmare that Angie did not survive.