Drug Addiction Stories

I wake up and the house is quiet.  I walk out to the kitchen and my wife is sitting there with my brother, two of our closest friends, and another man.  My wife walks up to me, puts her arm around me and tells me she loves me.  I ask her what everyone is doing there on a Saturday morning.  She tells me it is Monday morning and I have been on a drug addiction high for three days.  I look at my brother and he nods.

The man I do not know introduces himself as a professional counsellor.  My protest goes quiet as I see the tears in my wife’s eyes, along with the bruise that has almost healed from a week earlier on her arm.  I ask where the children are and my brother tells me his wife has them at their house.  They are only 3 and 5.

I have had a problem since I fell down a flight of stairs outside a friend’s apartment complex six months earlier.  The prescription I was given helped a little but I needed more until finally, through a neighbour down the street, I was able to get some harder stuff that I got addicted to.

I know it has been spiralling out of control.  I know my behavior and mood swings have been up and down like a roller coaster and that last week when my wife told me enough was enough and refused to give me the money to get another bag, I hit her and it was the last straw.  In truth, every morning I expected to wake up to an empty house.

The counsellor asked if I had any questions.  I said yes, and asked about the type of center it was, would anyone know, would our insurance cover it, how successful was it.  I told him I will beat this drug addiction.  He said I had a good attitude about it and certainly a good support system and he then went on to say that not only would I have one in the residential program but that my wife and brother would as well.

I hung my head then. I had really stretched the limits of what family should do yet here they were, ready to help, and stand beside me.  I will beat drug addiction, for my two little boys, my wife, my brother, and for myself.