Drug Addiction Stories & Info

Go to part 1 of the story

Even though I had taken 2 Oxycontin pills when I left the pharmacy, I took 2 more when I got home. It felt so good, and so right. I began to act like Oxy was going to disappear from the earth. I started taking 4 pills at a time, thinking I wouldn’t be able to get more when the prescription had run out. Then, I figured out they lasted longer if I chewed them instead of swallowing them. Well, they did for a while anyway.

My boyfriend, Jake and I started arguing a lot more because he didn’t like me taking the Oxycontin. The more we argued, the more Oxy I took. The more Oxy I took, the more we argued. It became a vicious cycle. One day, after I got home from yet another doctor and getting more OxyContin, my boyfriend took the pill bottle. I was so mad, and tried to take the bottle away from him, but he wouldn’t let go. I kicked him in the leg and told him to give me my damn medicine. “Medicine”, he scoffed. “Your drug of choice is more like it.” Well, I got rid of him. I threw him out.

There was a guy that I would always see at the drug store when I went to get my prescriptions, and he liked OxyContin too. We started seeing each other. He knew other ways of getting Oxy, but knew a lot of doctors that would hand them out easily too. It’s funny that I had gotten so into Oxy after I really thought I had it under control. Mark (my new boyfriend) showed me how to snort the crushed pills too.

I saw Jake, my former boyfriend one day while shopping. He hugged me, but then shook his head. Behind me was a mirror, and he turned me around to face the mirror. “Who ARE you?” he said softly. I was shocked at what I saw. Was this me? I had dark circles under my eyes, my complexion was terrible…I looked ragged. I forced a slight chuckle and made an excuse to get out of there.

At home, I told Mark what happened. He laughed, handed me a couple of Oxy and said, “Here, this will help.” It did, of course, for a while. I just couldn’t get that image I saw in the mirror out of my head. I called Jake that night and asked him to help me. That is how I ended up here, in rehab and recalling my story. Yep, I thought I had it under control.

.

This Oxycontin addiction story is brought to you by the Narconon drug rehab center of Trois-Rivieres. For more information about the Narconon Oxycontin Addiction Treatment program please call 1-877-782-7409.

People from every walk of life have become drug addicts. The people that know and love them see a complete change in behavior, and even morals. In fact, in some cases, those who have become addicts completely lose their sense of right and wrong. They become strangers to the people closest to them. This is the story of one of them.

Sandy had dreamed of being a Mother since she was a little child. She had to wait a long time for that dream to come true. Infertility issues prevented her from having a child until she was 29 years old. A baby wasn’t the only thing that would come into her life, however. The last thing she would have anticipated is becoming a drug addict.

She began to get headaches that prompted her to see a doctor. He gave her some Oxycontin for the pain. That first pill, that first wonderful pill would lead to her destruction. She felt euphoric and oddly at ease. Dealing with the baby was much easier at first. In fact, it helped her so much that she went back to refills to help her headaches (and her anxiety). The beginning of drug addiction was at hand. When the doctor refused a second refill, the darker side emerged.

Realizing that buying the drug illegally would be her only option, she began spending every penny she had on her addiction. At first it was the utility money, then the rent money, then the baby’s formula money. Since her preoccupation was obtaining drugs, her care of the baby faltered. Soon she was leaving him alone in order to go out and find her fix. This beautiful baby that she had dreamt of had become more of a nuisance. Feeding her drug addiction was more important.

When she ran out of her own money, she began to steal from family and friends. It didn’t take them long to realize she was a drug addict. They also realized that she was coming over alone many times, without the baby. When she did have the baby, she would leave him there, sometimes for as long as a few days. This went on for months until Family Services were called. Her drug addiction lead to her having Michael taken away from her. The baby she had wanted so badly and waited so long for was taken out of her home. All because of drug addiction, her dreams were shattered again. The loving Mother had become an addict, so instead of fighting to have a child, she was forced to fight to regain her child. It would be the fight of her life.

I’m writing this as a person who knows what an addiction to drugs can do first-hand, both from the view of a family member and then someone who got involved with drugs myself.  My parents were drug addicts, both of them.  It was not hard for my older sister and I to get into drugs when we were around them 24/7.  Neither of my parents could keep a job.  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out they were dealing as well as using.

When CPS came and took us away, we were sent to live with our grandmother.  She constantly put us down, saying we were losers just like our parents.  My older sister took off the day after her 17^th birthday.  I was 14 and had no one left to turn to.  So I turned to drugs. 

The other kids at my new school did not seem to care about getting to know me.  It did not take long after my sister took off for me to get in with the outcasts, the kids who sat on the sidelines in gym, who sat on one side of the cafeteria, who did not go to the games or get involved with extra-curricular activities. 

I would get high and drink until I was numb, but some nights, I still cried myself to sleep, missing my parents, my sister and wondering why my grandmother hated me so much.  Then one day, I got up late.  She had not gotten me up for school in her usual loud way.  I went to see where she was and found my grandmother had died in her sleep.  I found out after the paramedics came that it had been a heart attack.

I cringed that day.  I had just turned 15 and knew I would go into the system as a foster child.  But as I sat in the apartment with the social worker, I heard my name called after the front door opened.  It was my sister!  She was 18 and working, had gotten herself off drugs with the help of a co-worker, gotten into church and was begging the CPS worker to let her move in to the apartment and take care of me.  She had her pastor and several church friends with her. 

I am now 22 and about to graduate from college.  My sister has been my rock and my shelter.  Together, she and I volunteer to help other kids who find themselves in turmoil thanks to drugs and alcohol and family problems.  They seem to listen to us because they know we have been there. 

If you find yourself in my position, don’t wait until a family tragedy befalls you.  Get help now.  Call a hotline, call a pastor, call a youth counselor.  People really do want to help and guess what?  I know you don’t believe you are worth it because I felt that way. But you really are.   Make the call.  It’s not too late.