Drug Addiction Stories & Info

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.”