Drug Addiction Stories

I looked up as I was helping at the Food Bank and saw him. His face lit up in a big smile and he came over and hugged me, saying “Hi, Sis.” I was so happy to see him. Once a month, just like clockwork, my brother David was there with his friends seeking some groceries. Once a month was all I saw him. 

David is a drug addict. He has been on meth and cocaine off and on for nearly 30 years and while he has been in rehab several times, he seems to backslide as soon as he gets out. The drugs have destroyed his ability to understand a lot of things and he gets memories mixed up in a big way. He insists that so and so happened at such and such time and it is easier to just nod in agreement than to argue with him.

Some of the family cringe when they see him coming or when the county jail number shows up on caller I.D.. but when I see him at the Food Bank, I am reminded of the big brother I had way back when. He goes around excitedly telling everyone I am his baby sister. Sometimes he does not have his identification on him but they know him as he is a regular. They just look over at me, asking if I vouch for him being who he claims to be and I say yes, he is my big brother and I give him a big hug.

My brother was not always a drug addict. Being the oldest, he played sports and the prettiest girl in school crushed on him. But shortly after they graduated, before they got married, she was killed in an accident along with her sister and parents, and David took to using drugs. He changed almost overnight.

The family tried in many ways to get him to get help over the years. Our younger brother is always bailing him out of jail when he is found walking around in the middle of night, unsure of where he is. An officer told us he was looking for Tara. I cried. Tara had been his high school sweetheart, the one who died.

Still, for just a moment when our eyes meet across the room, I see the big brother I love inside of the man who threw everything away for drugs. Sometimes I pray that Tara is up there somewhere and sees David and how much he needs help. For a long time I didn’t believe that…until last week.

About a year ago I lost the lady I realized, too late, that I loved.  I was an alcoholic who was also addicted to painkillers.  Sally stayed with me through some rough times but I got mean and took it out on her verbally.  One day, when I came home from work, she was gone.

I called her but she would not answer her phone.  I went to see her but her mother said she had moved to another town.  Finally, she answered one night.  She told me that she had loved me, but that she could not spend her life being put down and belittled, for having a stroke while I was the one killing myself by mixing alcohol and drugs.  She asked me not to call her cell phone again.

I ended up getting help when my brother heard what had happened.  I got clean, got sober and luckily, my job was still there when I got out of rehab.  One day I went downtown to the flea market and I thought I heard a beautiful and familiar voice.  I looked over and sure enough, it was Sally.  She was with another man.

As I walked up to them, she had a worried look in her eyes.  Still, she introduced us and I could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew who I was.  He was a gentleman, though, and did not say anything rude.  I asked Sally how she was doing and she said fine.  She asked how I was and I told her I was doing good and had been clean for about six months.  A look of real happiness washed over her face at that.  She hugged me and said she was glad.

Still, she was walking away with that guy and I was jealous.  I asked how her health had been with her stroke and all.  It was partly out of meanness.  That was when I got the biggest lesson of my life.  The guy she was with took her hand as she said she was doing good and had not had any problems.  Then her boyfriend said “Even if she did, I would be here for her; she’s been the best thing to ever happen to me.”

I realized then that I had hurt Sally with my attitude while on drugs and alcohol but that she had helped me as much as she could till she could not take the abuse any more.  I was clean and sober now, but I had still lost out on love where she was concerned. A girl who had a stroke due to stress had ended up richer and healthier and able to build a life full of energy and love and adventure.  As she walked off with him, I whispered, “Good for you, Sally” and let her go peacefully and with my best wishes.

I remember the day we got the call.  There had been an explosion.  A couple of my brother’s buddies were killed.  My brother got a couple of pretty serious wounds, including a head injury.  He was being sent to Germany and then home.  We were scared to death but grateful he was alive.

We went to visit him at the hospital.  Thankfully it was summertime and I was out of school. I would be starting my senior year soon.  We stayed at the hospitality house for families.  After about six weeks, they let my brother come home.

He wanted to stay in the Army but his wounds and the head injury made it impossible.  He had never planned on anything except being a soldier and I could tell he felt lost.  He was really irritable at times.  I knew he had been through a lot and that the head injury could also make him feel that way.  However, I started suspecting he was over-doing his prescriptions; even my mom noticed it.

I have always been interested in the medical field.  I plan to be a doctor some day.  I began doing some research and it confirmed my suspicions.  My brother was becoming a prescription drug addict.  Maybe some of his irritability was from the head injury but not all of it.

My mom and I discussed it, and she too realized he was getting addicted.  We called a helpline and they advised us to set up an intervention.  We were going to have it the next day but my mom jumped the gun a little that morning.  My brother had taken the rest of his prescription and was trying to get on the computer to see if he could get some more prescribed.

My mom told him not to throw his life away; that he had survived and there was a good reason for it.  He went into a rage and flew up from the computer and hit her.  It took everything I had as I got between them not to hit him for that but I did not want to make matters worse.  I drew him aside and told him to never touch her again.  I told him I loved him and I wanted my big brother back, not this person I saw before me.

We stood there eye to eye just as the doorbell rang.  I told him it was someone who was going to get help for him and that we were all in this together.  We were family.  He quietly nodded okay and I helped him to the living room where the intervention counsellor sat with our mother.