Drug Addiction Stories

You always want your child to be safe. If he is in a fight, you want him to come out of it okay. What if the person your son is fighting is his brother? That’s a biggie. That’s a hard one. That’s the one where there is no way to support one without hurting the other. That’s what drugs will do 

One gets high on crack and throws something across the room, hitting a friend accidentally. His brother jumps up and yells at him to chill out and act like a man. Suddenly they are both fighting each other. How does that happen? Are these the same two young men who grew up so close in age and looks that people often mistook them for twins? Are these the same two who joined a baseball team together and wandered the halls of high school more like best friends instead of brothers?

So what happened? One night the older one got messed up on crack after work with a couple of buddies from the fast food joint he worked at. He felt such a euphoric rush, he wanted to experience it again. And again. And again.

He hid it for a bit but his brother found out. Then his parents. Then his mood swings got bad as the addiction came to stay. He became increasingly paranoid and violent when he was in need of a fix. He had thrown a lamp across the room because the friend had refused to loan him some money to go get some crack.

A fight between two young men turns rough and violent and bloody. One yells he can’t understand where the brother went to that he grew up with while the other tells him to try the crack sometime and he would understand. The mother steps in and gets knocked in the face, causing a greater fight.

She breaks down in tears and they stop. Somehow, some way, he sees that his mother has been hurt because of his addiction. He cries out “I’m sorry” as he sinks down beside her. Right then and there he promises to get help. She picks up the phone on the end table and hands it to him. “Do it now.”

He calls the local rehab center. He doesn’t even question why or how his mother knows the phone number by heart. Arrangements are made and she and her younger son drive the older one over to the treatment center.

How do I know this? It was us. My husband was at work that day four years ago when my sons got into their argument. Today, they are close again. I’ll never forget that day, though, when things had to hit rock bottom before my son got help.

Several years ago I was addicted to drugs. I took some money that did not belong to me. Now I live with a record and a hard time getting a job. I will take anything but as soon as people hear I have a record they walk away.

I don’t know what to do. My girlfriend broke up with me. She said she doesn’t need a guy that can’t get a job. It isn’t like I’m not trying. But I can’t even get a job at a fast food restaurant. How am I suppose to do the right thing if I keep getting turned down?

The other day I ran into an old buddy I use to smoke crack with. He is still into it. He invited me back to his place to have some. I was tempted, I really was. I mean, why try if I am going to get the door slammed in my face? Why go out there if I am going to get rejected? But I have been clean for three years so I just shook my head, said “no thanks” and walked away.

The crazy thing? I have friends who did drugs who have jobs. I have friends who beat up people who have jobs. They stole money, too, but those charges were dropped in order to get the felony charge plea bargained. My misdemeanor has me kicked to the curb while their felonies are getting a tax credit these days for companies.

I’m going to go to a meeting now. Writing this out, getting my feelings out, it made me feel better. I see from your site that I am not alone in having problems. I actually see my problems are not as bad as those of some of your readers. Thanks for having a site where people can share. It’s like going to a support meeting. Knowing I am not alone helps a lot.

Somewhere out there is the job for me. In the meantime, I keep doing odd jobs for people who know my parents and my brother. I keep going to my meetings and I am keeping a positive attitude. Okay, most of the time, I am keeping a positive attitude. You know something? I know I am a winner. Walking away from temptation the other day proved that. Thanks again for letting me get this off my chest.

I loved high school. I had it all. I was popular, had a cute boyfriend and was a cheerleader. I enjoyed going to school so I could see my friends and be seen. Then came the summer between my junior and senior year when I went off to cheerleading camp. 

Even though I was popular at my school, at cheerleading camp there seemed to be an entirely new set of rules. In every situation there has to be those at the top and the bottom of the totem pole and for some reason I was towards the bottom. I was not used to that and it affected my self esteem and thus my performance. As the coaches called me out, I felt the heat of being embarrassed in my cheeks.

On Friday evening of our second week we were given some free time and went into town. I went with a couple of other girls who were meeting up with a boy who worked at the camp and his friends. That was the night I got high for the first time. It was the first time in nearly two weeks that I had relaxed. I was beginning to understand how the less popular girls at school felt and I did not like it. I couldn’t wait to get back to my own town and my own status in school.

The next night we went out again and this time my new friends talked me into some cocaine. Knowing I would never be in this position again, I decided to try it. What harm could it do? We spent the next couple of hours getting stoned and before we knew it, we were getting ready to rush back to camp before curfew.

I do not really remember how the accident happened. I know we were driving along getting close to camp when the boy who was driving us back sped up at our urging. As we rounded a curve, he lost control of the wheel as a deer ran across the road. It stopped, startled by our headlights. All I remember after that was screaming then blackness.

One of the two girls with us died. The rest of us had minor injuries. I ended up with a broken collarbone as I fell out of the back of the pickup truck.

That summer fifteen years ago changed things for me. I resigned my position as cheerleader at school and concentrated on my books instead. I was nicer to the less popular girls even though the tables were turned on me as I was the one whispered about. In small towns, gossip spreads like wildfire and everyone knew what had happened even before school started.

To this day I have not done drugs. I do not associate them with being cool. I associate them with the night a girl died.   Getting high at cheerleading camp changed everything.