Drug Addiction Stories & Info

I am a mother who has three teenage children.

6 years ago I became addicted to narcotics prescribed to me for a back injury. I began abusing these drugs.  My drug use escalated quickly, and my parenting skills deteriorated just as rapidly. I am hoping that by explaining my story that I may be able to help you avoid some of the heartache that I have experienced.

Although I swore to myself that I would never forsake my children for the drugs, I soon found myself doing just that. I stopped being the attentive, involved, loving, caring, responsible, content mother that I had been for many years. I was able to hide the drug use for awhile, saying I was just tired, etc, but just never feeling 100% “there” for the kids. Then it proressed to that I started sleeping late in the mornings, neglecting to get them up for school or to make their lunches.  I was once actively involved in heading up every organization or team that they joined, and I quit doing all that because I was exhausting my body with the drug use.  I had no energy to involve myself with their lives, and soon found myself losing touch with what they were interested in or what their lives outside were like. I became very selfish, irritable and emotional. I stopped trying to even appear interested in them or what they had to say. I made errors, lost things, forgot to cook dinners, left them home unattended for extended periods of time, or spent excessive periods of time sleeping off the effects of the drugs while they were home, leaving them there to amuse themselves.  Eventually they would start looking after themselves as they couldn’t count on me. All these drugs did was make me tired and zombie-like, wanting to sleep. Not the picture of the mother I once was at all.

The end result has my life looking and feeling like a war-zone.  My children were taken out of my custody by my ex-husband who by this time had filed for divorce.  My eldest, a son, and I had so many heated and violent arguments and battles during the time of my drug abuse that he has completely cut me out of his life.  I don’t blame him one bit.   I have not spoken to him in 2 and a half years.  Thankfully I still have my two younger children who are still present in my life, but of course treat me as I deserve: without trust and at arms length to some degree.
I have been in rehab now for 6 months and am working towards building these relationships back up.  It has been the most difficult thing I have ever done and I have no idea how it will all turn out but I have hope and help from great people.

My children used to be the center of my world. Drugs took their place.  Not anymore.  I AM BACK and stronger than ever!!

I am hoping that by reading this you might see somewhere in there a little bit of anything that might resemble your life,  and then see what could happen, once the drug use gets out of control.  And believe me, it does get out of control. I managed to be the ‘weekend warrior’ drug user for a while,  always thinking I could control it, but it doesn’t take long until drugs are running your life.

L.V.

I sat there with the other inmates and watched her walk out the door. People come and go when you are in the tank. I had been here myself this time about seven or eight weeks. I had heard all of the stories, nothing was ever anyone’s fault. I certainly played the blame game myself, having been an LVN and losing my license and control of my life to my addiction to heroin. 

She was different, though. She was actually a few years older than me. She did not blame society, other people or anyone but herself for what she had done. Her name was Nora and she also held her head high, saying she would do the same thing again. When her story got out around the tank, some people scoffed. Most of us who had been in repeatedly knew the score. She was definitely a different breed.

I stole drugs from the clinic where I worked. She wrote several hot checks. I stole prescription sheets from the doctor I worked for and wrote bogus ‘scripts for non-existent patients, then traded them off for heroin. She fed her kids with the checks she wrote at grocery stores. She said it was wrong, but when you have a sick kid, you can not work because of his medical care schedule and no one is around to help, you do what you have to when it comes to your kids.  It was her choice.  She made no excuses. 

I stole to feed my addiction. She stole to feed her kids. I blamed everything else. She blamed herself. I looked around at those of us in the tank who had blamed exes, parents, friends, bosses. She quietly went about her business the few days she was there reading. One of the long term women began picking on her. She ignored it. When a young girl came in terrified and was picked on, however, the mama bear in her came out and she stood up to the cell block bully bitch and would not back down. The bully went to the guard to complain and was shocked when the rest of the women stood up for Nora. They were sick of the bully behavior themselves.

When Nora left, those of us left behind had the usual feelings of jealousy, wishful thinking and resentment mixed with being happy for her. I watched her leave, took a breath and went over to the phone and called my own mother collect. “Mom, it’s me. When I get out next week, will you drive me over to the rehab center? It is my fault I am in here and on drugs. I want to get cleaned up for good this time.”

Sometimes people on drugs feel like they are all alone. Sometimes it is paranoia. Sometimes it is the truth, whether the drugs did it or the loneliness led to the drugs or whatever. I know because I am one of those people. No family, no close friends. I got deeper and deeper into my heroin and alcohol and could have easily ended up dead if it had not been for someone who totally depended on me. The truth is, I think he saved my life just as much as I saved his. 

Do you change the channel during commercials? I do, too, most of the time. One night, however, the remote control was just out of reach and I was too into my high to reach it. A commercial came on about abandoned animals. I looked into their eyes and saw my own feelings there. Weird, I know, but I could see their pain and feel it. Someone else could see it, too, and snuggled more into me. My dog, Henry.

I looked at him and saw the same look I was seeing in the animals on television. It was like he was saying, “Yeah, that’s me when you off yourself by overdose some day. How can you be sympathetic to their plight when you are doing the same thing to me by slowly killing yourself?”

I know some of you might be reading this and if you have never done drugs you are thinking that’s the paranoia coming out. Some of you may not like animals and will not understand the connection. But I bet there are still others out there who do know, who do get what I am trying to say.

That night, the commercial kept coming back and haunting me. I kept glancing at Henry asleep on his side of the double bed. Maybe I did not have a family, my parents dying just after my 19^th birthday in a car accident and no siblings, aunts or cousins to speak of. Maybe I had never married since turning to heroin and alcohol shortly afterwards. But I was 23 and I did have someone depending on me who showed me every day that he loved me, my dog, Henry.

I made arrangements the next day to get clean. I got Henry situated with a neighbor I trusted who was delighted I was getting help. She had sort of adopted me and took care of my parents’ home and Henry while I was in rehab. Today, I am working, involved with a couple of community projects, pursuing my interest in art, dating a little and every day, I come home to someone very important: Henry.