Drug Addiction Stories & Info

My parents like to use the excuse that I do drugs because I am a homosexual. That is not true. I have known since I was fourteen that I was “gay” when I was more attracted to boys than I was girls. I did not get into drugs until my junior year. It had nothing to do with being gay, though. Truth of the matter is, it was one of my straight friends who talked me into trying it and before I knew it, I was hooked on crack.

As my grades started falling and my parents figured out I was on something, they began to believe it had to do with me being gay. They even set up an intervention for me. The intervention did work but it also worked where they were concerned as well. I broke down and told them flat out that I was not ashamed of being gay, it was my straight friends who got me hooked on crack, and I could accept that I had a drug problem a lot easier than my parents could accept me for me.

I went into rehab and got cleaned up. I had only been on crack for about four months. I was able to get my grades up. More importantly, something wonderful happened. During my rehab, we started family counseling. My parents finally accepted me for who I really am for the first time since I came out to them. We were able to have open heart to heart discussions. My parents came to realize that being attracted to boys did not mean something was wrong with me. It simply meant that I was attracted to guys and could not help it. That was just how I was born.

The big break through came the day my dad turned to me and said, “Son, I can accept that you are homosexual. I can not accept that I could lose you any day to crack cocaine.” Then he gathered me in his arms as he, my mom and I all three cried.

That was three years ago. I am now in college and I have a boyfriend. I brought him home over the Christmas holidays. I was nervous. This was the first serious relationship I had been in and I was scared about how my parents, especially my dad, would react. When they met my boyfriend, though, my dad just looked at him and asked if he was on any drugs. He said absolutely not. My dad smiled, shook his hand, and said he was glad to meet him. We had a great visit over the holidays. My parents even say to tell him hi when they call to touch base now that I am back at school.  I love that not only do my parents accept me but these days they accept friends like me as well.

Stress used to be my excuse for everything.  I had a wife, a family, a job, a house payment, bills, the stress just kept adding up.  I seldom had time for myself, everyone wanted a piece of me.  When a friend slipped me some cocaine one night and told me it would help me relax, I thought “why not?”  We were on a business trip, it did not seem to have hurt him any so again, why not?

I did not realize that I was saying yes that night to just one more demand on my time.  At first, I thought it was just letting me know that I needed a break from all the stress and responsibility.  It took quite a while before I realized that it was actually the opposite, the cocaine was demanding more and more of my time, my mind, my body and my money.

My wife knew something was up but even in her wildest dreams she never suspected cocaine until the day she cleaned out my blazer pocket to get it ready for the dry cleaners.  When she pulled out the white powder, she was honestly shocked.  She came in to the bedroom where I was still sleeping that Saturday morning and admitted that she thought I was having an affair, but she was stunned to find out about the cocaine use.  She told me she would help me with anything and she would accept anything: an illness, me losing my job and working for minimum wage, but she would not tolerate drugs because of our children.

She gave me an ultimatum that Saturday.  On Monday she moved out.  Within a week, my friend who had gotten me started on cocaine had lost his job.  That was an eye opener for me.  I called my wife who was staying at her sister’s house and told her what had happened.  I told her I realized I needed help or I would be next.  My employer was a reputable Fortune 500 company but if I did not get help on my own, they might show me the door as well.

That was four years ago.  When I went into rehab, my wife came home.  We underwent marriage and family counseling as well as sessions to deal with my cocaine addiction.  Those marriage counseling sessions opened up our lines to communication in ways we had never experienced.

Turning to cocaine was wrong.  I do believe my marriage is stronger now, but it would have been nice to have just gone the marriage counseling route and sidestep the cocaine addiction altogether.  Still, I am just grateful we got a second chance at all.

I was sitting in the restaurant having lunch with my girlfriends that Saturday he came up and gave me a big hug.  He smiled charmingly at my friends as I introduced them.  Before I could say who he was, he told them all I was his baby sister.  They looked at me questioning. 

Yes, this was my brother.  This was the guy who had done drugs for the last ten years, who could not hold a job, who had gotten to the point where all he did was sit home and snort crack.  He noticed my ring, the reason why my friends and I were out that day, a celebration of my engagement as we planned the wedding. 

“What?  Stacy, you have been married about six times already, come on.”  My girlfriend, Carla, leaned in and asked “He really doesn’t know you very well to be your brother, does he?”

No, he did not.  My brother had left mentally years ago.  He put drugs ahead of family, he was not there for our mother’s surgery or our father’s funeral.  He only called one of us when he needed money or to be bonded out of jail.  Daryl just could not be bothered by anything except getting his next fix.

He asked when I was getting married and I told him on our dad’s birthday.  He shrugged and hugged me and said, “Call me.”  How could I call someone who did not have a phone?  Who did not ask how our mom was, how the rest of the family was, and who could not even keep himself straight from day to day.

Then he leaned in and whispered that he needed me to take care of his dinner bill.  He left his wallet at home, he claimed.  He handed me the ticket without waiting for an answer and kissed me on the cheek then told his waitress his baby sister was taking care of his tab. 

That is what having a big brother on crack does.  You only see him when he wants something, he tells lies, he can not remember his own little sister has never been married and he hits you up for money one way or the other even if it is not to pay directly for his drugs.

My friends leaned in and hugged me or touched my hand and said “It’s okay.”  A couple of them had family members who had been into drugs and they understood.  They promised to get me through any future storms with my brother if they occurred.   Still, as I watched Daryl walk away and pulled out an extra twenty dollar bill to pay for his lunch, I felt a touch of sadness as I realized that my big brother had probably already forgotten seeing me in just those few minutes.