Drug Addiction Stories

People thought I had it all. No, that’s not true. People probably didn’t think anything at all. I was just a co-worker, just a neighbor, just the woman who came into the grocery store at the same time every Thursday evening and the liquor store at the same time every Friday afternoon after work. My shyness could probably be traced back to junior high. I never quite fit in. I wasn’t one of those kids who got picked on, I didn’t even rate that much attention. 

I can not recall ever really having a date. I was 26 and just going through the motions of living, waiting for Friday so I could indulge all weekend in my rum and coke, usually more rum than coke as I began buying two big bottles every Friday instead of one.

I’m not sure when I began sneaking a couple of shots into my carrying cup. I’d get a coke from the vending machine and enjoy the drink for as long as it lasted. No one noticed, that’s how invisible I was to everyone. Then my boss asked me if I could stay late for a few days one week to finish up the finer points of a presentation he needed set up for a board meeting the following Tuesday.

I was touched that he liked my work enough to pick me till his assistant caught me in the break room and thanked me also. “I have plans all weekend so I suggested you since I knew you had no family or anything.”

Those words hurt but I just smiled and went on. I was not going to be able to make it to the liquor store that Friday so I stopped in on Thursday after work. I drank some rum and coke Friday evening while working on the presentation and really didn’t feel affected. Saturday was a different story. The more I thought about how I was at work while everyone else was off somewhere with people who wanted to be with them, the more I drank. I stumbled through offices ranting and raving. I cried and apparently messed up my boss’s assistant’s desk.

Some where along the way, I passed out. My boss found me. He had stopped by to see how the presentation was coming along. Needless to say I was fired. I was also charged with public intoxication but the charges were dropped in exchange for mandatory counseling.

I have friends now. They are in my support group. I have a new job, too. Just yesterday, two of the girls at work asked if I wanted to go to lunch this coming Friday with them. My therapy and support group not only helped me with my alcoholism but it gave me some self confidence as well.  I don’t feel alone anymore.

Sometimes I see it over and over in my mind. My family does not understand so I do not bother to try to explain it to them. They do not know how it feels to have a friend literally die in your arms, a buddy who would and did risk his life for his unit, who sacrificed his life for his unit. Even now, after being home for nearly two years, I can not sleep sometimes because I see his face, his final smile telling me to hang in there.

Sometimes I am told I am a hero because I went to war. Yet when I seek treatment for the nightmares and headaches, when I try to talk it out, when I take a chance on letting someone get close to me, I feel like I am being judged. My family tells me I am not but I am. I am judging myself and I am not coming out on the good side of it.

My mother does not look the other way when I go on drinking binges. She does not let me get away with it. She sought help for me, first through the VA and when that did not help, then through a treatment center. She would not let me fail myself as I felt I had failed my buddy by not dying in his stead.

When the humvee exploded that day, we all felt it but only he died. The headaches began that night but I shook them off. How do I go see the medic over a lousy headache when my buddy lost his life? How do I forget that day? I don’t.

I remember feeling like I just wanted to die. People were going about their daily lives here at home and yet my buddy never would again. I was going about my life. How fair was that?  I began drinking to forget.  I couldn’t.  Still, I drank more and more, hoping I could at least pass out and not have to deal with the nightmares. 

Still, my mother would not let it go. Sometimes I think if our mothers went to war to defend us, there would be a lot less casualties on our side because mothers will fight with a vengeance to protect their children. When moms go to war, they make things happen.  When it became apparent that I had turned into an alcoholic, my mother did just that: she went to war on a new enemy: alcoholism.

I have been clean about six months now. My mother takes me to Alcoholics Anonymous and sits in the car reading while I am in my meetings. She is helping me with my VA case and encouraging me as I return to school. She reminds me of what I keep forgetting: that she had a son over there, too, and that he is worth saving.

Thanks, Mom. I love you.

I  was all excited. It was my first date in a while and I admit, I was nervous.  Mutual friends had set us up and we met at the wonderful little Mexican restaurant that was locally owned and renowned for its Tex-Mex.  We had a nice lunch and although he seemed cryptic a time or two, I was optimistic and put it down to the fact that he might be a little nervous too.

I had to return to work after lunch and so did he.  He asked if he could call me later and I said yes.  Sure enough, at a little after 7 he called and asked if I would like to go antiquing the next morning.  We did have that in common and I said yes.

So the next morning, he picked me up a little after 8 and we were off.  We spent a couple of hours browsing the antique stores and the flea market.  Then the couple we had in common as friends called my cell phone and asked if we wanted to come over and have some fun just hanging out.

We said sure and went over.  We played board games and sang karaoke and the guys drank; and drank; and drank. I was worried about letting him drive home so I drove us to his house and decided to stay on his couch.  He got quite belligerent and loud and I realized I was with a mean drunk. Still, I had no way home and I stayed.  A good thing I suppose because he took some sedatives and fell.  I took him to see his doctor that next morning who promptly got on to him for mixing alcohol and sedatives.  Apparently it was his thing, to mix alcohol and sedatives on a nightly basis.

He thanked me for being there for him and I took him home and set up his ice bags.  Then my friend came by to pick me up so I could go home.  Later that evening he called me and sounded funny. I was worried so I drove over.  He was drunk again.

I knew this was not the guy for me and I fixed him a plate of food and tried to help him get comfortable before I left.  He screamed at me that if he  died it would be on me.  I honestly did not know how to take him and I called our friends.  They called his brother and I quickly left.

I have a new understanding and respect for the loved ones of alcoholics and drug addicts. I had two dates with this guy and I was hurting from what he was doing to himself and how he was treating me.  I commend those who get help for their loved ones and I think support systems for not only the addicts but the family members are a wonderful idea.

He called me the other day and I let it go to voicemail.  He left a message asking me out.  I never returned his call but I do wish him the best.