Drug Addiction Stories

Several years ago I was addicted to drugs. I took some money that did not belong to me. Now I live with a record and a hard time getting a job. I will take anything but as soon as people hear I have a record they walk away.

I don’t know what to do. My girlfriend broke up with me. She said she doesn’t need a guy that can’t get a job. It isn’t like I’m not trying. But I can’t even get a job at a fast food restaurant. How am I suppose to do the right thing if I keep getting turned down?

The other day I ran into an old buddy I use to smoke crack with. He is still into it. He invited me back to his place to have some. I was tempted, I really was. I mean, why try if I am going to get the door slammed in my face? Why go out there if I am going to get rejected? But I have been clean for three years so I just shook my head, said “no thanks” and walked away.

The crazy thing? I have friends who did drugs who have jobs. I have friends who beat up people who have jobs. They stole money, too, but those charges were dropped in order to get the felony charge plea bargained. My misdemeanor has me kicked to the curb while their felonies are getting a tax credit these days for companies.

I’m going to go to a meeting now. Writing this out, getting my feelings out, it made me feel better. I see from your site that I am not alone in having problems. I actually see my problems are not as bad as those of some of your readers. Thanks for having a site where people can share. It’s like going to a support meeting. Knowing I am not alone helps a lot.

Somewhere out there is the job for me. In the meantime, I keep doing odd jobs for people who know my parents and my brother. I keep going to my meetings and I am keeping a positive attitude. Okay, most of the time, I am keeping a positive attitude. You know something? I know I am a winner. Walking away from temptation the other day proved that. Thanks again for letting me get this off my chest.

When I see girlfriends huddled together in the mall, I think of Judy. When I see grown women having dinner together in a restaurant, I think of Judy. We had been friends for seventeen years. She had a way about her, beautiful and bright, slender and carrying herself well. When I thought of a best friend, I thought of Judy.

One night she called me and asked if she could come stay with me. She lived 400 miles away and had decided to leave her husband. She moved in and that is when another side of her that I had never seen emerged. Somehow, somewhere, Judy got hooked on prescription drugs. She had no ailments that I knew of so I did not understand all the pain medications I saw on her dresser in the guest room. I asked her about it and she said doctors give them out left and right to her. She even told me I should give them a try as they made her feel good. I was shocked. I tried to talk to her about getting rehab but she informed me she was not an addict and could quit anytime she wanted.

Still, for the most part, she seemed okay. I helped her get a job and we went out one night to celebrate. Beautiful Judy usually had no trouble getting guys and that night was no exception. She caught the eye of several guys. A man I had recently begun dating showed up at the club after work and we danced and played pool while Judy flirted with her admirers.

I went to the restroom and when I came back, the man I was seeing (Paul) was visibly upset. He told me he thought he should go and looking at the time, I felt the same way. I asked Judy if she was ready and she said yes. I said goodnight to Paul and Judy and I left for home. On the way she told me Paul had made a pass at her. I was speechless. Still, she was pretty so I was not surprised.

The next day when Paul called and asked me out for the following evening I said no. I told him I did not want to see him and told him what Judy had said. He told me she had actually come on to him after he caught her attempting to put something in my drink!

I confronted Judy and she shrugged and said “Yeah, so what? I just wanted you to loosen up some.” That conversation ended seventeen years of friendship. I found out through a mutual friend that her marriage ended because her husband could not handle her addiction to the pain relievers.

I miss the Judy I used to know. I heard she lost her job and took off back to our hometown where she got busted a couple of times for drugs before going into court ordered rehab. Sometimes, when I see two friends sharing a moment together in the mall or a restaurant, I think of her. I miss my friend, Judy.  I wonder if she ever thinks of me?

I remember that day.  I was in eighth grade, school had just started, and I was in line in the cafeteria for lunch.  I felt like I was being talked about and sure enough, I turned around and Bobby Jones, the rich kid down the street was pointing at me and whispering.  He finally spoke out loud where I could hear him, asking me where I had gotten my falsies.  He accused me of wearing a padded bra.

I cringed.  I had hit a growth spurt over that summer and to my disappointment I was the only girl in our small class that apparently had done so.  Unfortunately, the boys had noticed and they had definitely NOT had a growth spurt in common sense or maturity.

I was teased for several days about my fake top.  Finally, one day at recess, I lifted my shirt and screamed “what do you think these are?”  Everyone was speechless.  The rumors about fake breasts and padded bras stopped, but after I shut the door in Bobby’s face later that afternoon when he stopped by my house, a new one started.  I hated feeling like an outcast at school and began running around with some kids I met at the skating rink.  One night they talked me into trying some pot and soon we were into alcohol and by eleventh grade, cocaine.  I barely graduated, not even walking across the stage.  My diploma was mailed to me and I was just fine with that, never wanting to lay eyes on some of those kids again.

My parents figured it out and got me into a treatment program.  I cleaned up, got into college and then went into counseling, hoping to help someone else the way I was helped.  I wanted young people to understand that words can hurt and some choices can literally destroy a person’s life.  I lost a couple of friends to cocaine overdoses.  I wanted these kids to understand that some rumor does not need to have the power to change a life.

I did not go to the tenth anniversary of my high school reunion, but when the invitation for the fifteenth anniversary came, I decided to go.  I thought maybe it would help me to put closure on the past and in its own way, maybe even help some of the kids I cared about that crossed my path in a drug treatment rehab as a counselor.  As I filled out the RSVP card, I briefly wondered if Bobby Jones would be there.