Drug Addiction Stories

I was sitting in the restaurant having lunch with my girlfriends that Saturday he came up and gave me a big hug.  He smiled charmingly at my friends as I introduced them.  Before I could say who he was, he told them all I was his baby sister.  They looked at me questioning. 

Yes, this was my brother.  This was the guy who had done drugs for the last ten years, who could not hold a job, who had gotten to the point where all he did was sit home and snort crack.  He noticed my ring, the reason why my friends and I were out that day, a celebration of my engagement as we planned the wedding. 

“What?  Stacy, you have been married about six times already, come on.”  My girlfriend, Carla, leaned in and asked “He really doesn’t know you very well to be your brother, does he?”

No, he did not.  My brother had left mentally years ago.  He put drugs ahead of family, he was not there for our mother’s surgery or our father’s funeral.  He only called one of us when he needed money or to be bonded out of jail.  Daryl just could not be bothered by anything except getting his next fix.

He asked when I was getting married and I told him on our dad’s birthday.  He shrugged and hugged me and said, “Call me.”  How could I call someone who did not have a phone?  Who did not ask how our mom was, how the rest of the family was, and who could not even keep himself straight from day to day.

Then he leaned in and whispered that he needed me to take care of his dinner bill.  He left his wallet at home, he claimed.  He handed me the ticket without waiting for an answer and kissed me on the cheek then told his waitress his baby sister was taking care of his tab. 

That is what having a big brother on crack does.  You only see him when he wants something, he tells lies, he can not remember his own little sister has never been married and he hits you up for money one way or the other even if it is not to pay directly for his drugs.

My friends leaned in and hugged me or touched my hand and said “It’s okay.”  A couple of them had family members who had been into drugs and they understood.  They promised to get me through any future storms with my brother if they occurred.   Still, as I watched Daryl walk away and pulled out an extra twenty dollar bill to pay for his lunch, I felt a touch of sadness as I realized that my big brother had probably already forgotten seeing me in just those few minutes.

I was helping at the Food Mission that day when I heard my name called. I looked up and there he was: my older brother. That would be, that should be a good thing but my brother had been on drugs for as long as I could remember. It had cost him everything, his wife, his children, his way of life. He and our dad had fought over it for years before our dad passed away. 

I hugged him. I could see by the look in his eyes that he was on something even as we spoke. He went around to everyone and said “That’s my sister, that’s my baby sister.” I excused myself after a bit and went into the office and called our mother. I told her that Scotty was at the Food Mission.

“Can I give him our phone number, Mama?” I asked. She hesitated, wanting to say no because of all the times he had stolen from us over the years. Finally, she said “Of course, he’s family.”

I went back out to the room where we were giving the food and Scotty came up to me. He was jabbering a mile a minute and I could not really understand him. Our Outreach Counselor saw us and came up, asking if there was anything he could do. He could tell Scotty was obviously on something, too. When people came through who were high or drunk, he would try to get them to get help so they did not hurt themselves or anyone else, especially if they were driving.

Scotty again said “This is my baby sister” and stumbled. I said “Scotty, what are you on this time?” He insisted he was fine but there was really no doubt. Then he stumbled again. We got him into a private conference room and I kneeled down next to him. I begged him to get help. “Scotty, you have been on drugs for as long as I can remember. Please get help. I want to know what it is like to have a real big brother. I need you. Mama is sick and I need you.”

Scotty looked into my eyes without blinking. I was praying inside and tears were running down my face. Then he did an amazing thing. He looked at the Outreach Counselor and asked him if he could really get help today. Within an hour my brother was checking into a residential program in our town. I was put down as his next of kin and I visited him during family visitation times and went to the available family therapy sessions.

That was two years ago. Today, Scotty is rebuilding his relationship with his own two children and he volunteers at the same Food Mission I do. We have gotten closer and for the first time in my life, I know what it is like to have a big brother. It’s awesome.