Drug Addiction Stories & Info

I have read many stories on here. I am not sure if you will post one that is third party or not. It did happen in my family but it was not a family member who caused it. Anyway, here is our story. The reason I think it is important is because it involves children being used by someone they should have been able to trust. 

When my son was in kindergarten, I received a call one day from his principal. He told me that it had been decided that my son had a behavior problem and needed to be put on Ritalin as he suspected my son had ADHD. Now I was concerned and a bit aggravated that his teacher had not told me of her suspicions. I was a hands-on mom, I had all of my children involved in sports and I was right there with them as either a soccer coach or baseball or football team mom. When I asked his teacher why she had not said anything to me, she was shocked. She told me that she had never seen any behavior problems in my son other than those that normal five year old boys go through.

Still, I took him to his pediatrician who did a thorough screening and based on his knowledge of my son, the two conversations with the teacher and the principal and my own active participation in my child’s life, he said there was no need for my son to be on any form of medication. What I did not know was that there were other children in the neighborhood also being told the same thing who shared the same pediatric clinic and pharmacy as we lived on a military installation.

With the rise in prescription refills being requested by the parents of children attending that elementary school as well as the parents of those children not on medication being encouraged to seek it, it soon became apparent that someone was stealing the prescription medication that was intended for the children. When a person does not need ADHD medication, it can be crushed and snorted and acts as a form of speed.

To this day I keep my guard up where teachers and principals are concerned. I stay active in my kids’ academic lives. I know sometimes teachers say that they have to clean up a parent’s mess but in my experience, my kids had some really good teachers and even some good principals. Still, I will never forget that one principal wanted to feed his addiction at the risk of hurting my innocent five year old. He picked the wrong kid, though, because my son had a very involved mother who knew his personality inside and out.

The principal lost his job but I am thankful every day that it was not at the expense of endangering my child by putting him on medication he never needed to begin with. My advice to every parent who is told by a principal or teacher that their child needs ADHD medication is to make sure, know your child, check with the doctor and with other parents in the school to see if it is being requested of them as well. Your child deserves to be protected in case there is an ulterior motive.

 I found an old diary the other day from my childhood. I dreamed of going to New York City and becoming an attorney. I dreamed of being completely on my own, making a lot of money and marrying some rich guy. What I did was completely opposite. I became a homeless druggie and ended up dumped by my own drug dealer for girl after girl after girl.

I was on drugs for years. My family begged me to get help. Thankfully, I never had any kids or they would have been part of that nightmare. I could not believe how fast time flew. One day I was a teenager dreaming of graduating in two years, the next I was a drugged out high school dropout who did not care about anything but my next fix.

I finally got clean when I was in my 30s. I moved back to my home town from Sacramento where I was just losing it with one drug fix after another and took courses to help at a local drug rehab center that appreciated the fact that I had first hand experience and could offer a different type of help to the teens and local townspeople. I would run into people I knew and they would be shocked at my appearance. I looked older thanks to my drug use.

I found that old diary in the garage when I was cleaning it out for my mom. I sat and cried over what could have been. Then I remembered that now I am making a difference. Just the other day I took part in a graduation ceremony where a young girl thanked me for helping her through her detox and listened to her fears and dreams. She is only nineteen and has her whole life ahead of her. I just know she can do it.

I may not have become a great attorney in New York City and married some millionaire but I am richly blessed all the same. I am making a difference in my own community, with the kids of some of my past classmates, and I just started dating a wonderful man who is the brother of someone in my Narcotics Anonymous group.

My life did not go the way that sixteen year old girl dreamed in that diary over twenty years ago but I have been given a second chance and I appreciate it more than words can say. I made a success of myself after all.

I was helping at the Food Mission that day when I heard my name called. I looked up and there he was: my older brother. That would be, that should be a good thing but my brother had been on drugs for as long as I could remember. It had cost him everything, his wife, his children, his way of life. He and our dad had fought over it for years before our dad passed away. 

I hugged him. I could see by the look in his eyes that he was on something even as we spoke. He went around to everyone and said “That’s my sister, that’s my baby sister.” I excused myself after a bit and went into the office and called our mother. I told her that Scotty was at the Food Mission.

“Can I give him our phone number, Mama?” I asked. She hesitated, wanting to say no because of all the times he had stolen from us over the years. Finally, she said “Of course, he’s family.”

I went back out to the room where we were giving the food and Scotty came up to me. He was jabbering a mile a minute and I could not really understand him. Our Outreach Counselor saw us and came up, asking if there was anything he could do. He could tell Scotty was obviously on something, too. When people came through who were high or drunk, he would try to get them to get help so they did not hurt themselves or anyone else, especially if they were driving.

Scotty again said “This is my baby sister” and stumbled. I said “Scotty, what are you on this time?” He insisted he was fine but there was really no doubt. Then he stumbled again. We got him into a private conference room and I kneeled down next to him. I begged him to get help. “Scotty, you have been on drugs for as long as I can remember. Please get help. I want to know what it is like to have a real big brother. I need you. Mama is sick and I need you.”

Scotty looked into my eyes without blinking. I was praying inside and tears were running down my face. Then he did an amazing thing. He looked at the Outreach Counselor and asked him if he could really get help today. Within an hour my brother was checking into a residential program in our town. I was put down as his next of kin and I visited him during family visitation times and went to the available family therapy sessions.

That was two years ago. Today, Scotty is rebuilding his relationship with his own two children and he volunteers at the same Food Mission I do. We have gotten closer and for the first time in my life, I know what it is like to have a big brother. It’s awesome.