Drug Addiction Stories

You always want your child to be safe. If he is in a fight, you want him to come out of it okay. What if the person your son is fighting is his brother? That’s a biggie. That’s a hard one. That’s the one where there is no way to support one without hurting the other. That’s what drugs will do 

One gets high on crack and throws something across the room, hitting a friend accidentally. His brother jumps up and yells at him to chill out and act like a man. Suddenly they are both fighting each other. How does that happen? Are these the same two young men who grew up so close in age and looks that people often mistook them for twins? Are these the same two who joined a baseball team together and wandered the halls of high school more like best friends instead of brothers?

So what happened? One night the older one got messed up on crack after work with a couple of buddies from the fast food joint he worked at. He felt such a euphoric rush, he wanted to experience it again. And again. And again.

He hid it for a bit but his brother found out. Then his parents. Then his mood swings got bad as the addiction came to stay. He became increasingly paranoid and violent when he was in need of a fix. He had thrown a lamp across the room because the friend had refused to loan him some money to go get some crack.

A fight between two young men turns rough and violent and bloody. One yells he can’t understand where the brother went to that he grew up with while the other tells him to try the crack sometime and he would understand. The mother steps in and gets knocked in the face, causing a greater fight.

She breaks down in tears and they stop. Somehow, some way, he sees that his mother has been hurt because of his addiction. He cries out “I’m sorry” as he sinks down beside her. Right then and there he promises to get help. She picks up the phone on the end table and hands it to him. “Do it now.”

He calls the local rehab center. He doesn’t even question why or how his mother knows the phone number by heart. Arrangements are made and she and her younger son drive the older one over to the treatment center.

How do I know this? It was us. My husband was at work that day four years ago when my sons got into their argument. Today, they are close again. I’ll never forget that day, though, when things had to hit rock bottom before my son got help.

It’s a little after 2 in the morning. I can’t sleep. Monday is going to be rough and I just want to have a drink so bad. I can’t chance it, though. I have to keep my head clear when all I want is to just get drunk and forget what life has given me because of two very special people, my daughter and my son. One is here, asleep in the other room, the other was murdered a year ago. 

My husband and I had some problems. We split up. I just knew we would get back together but some girl a few years younger than us caught his eye. Before I knew it, they were living together while I was pregnant with our baby girl.

Last year, he picked up our three year old son and took him over there to spend a few days. I was prepared to go into labor any day. It was the last time I saw either of them. My husband’s girlfriend? She was on crack and also seeing another guy. The two of them were messed up and caught by my husband. He began yelling at them. Told them both to get out according to the neighbors who could hear it. One of them called 911 but it was too late.

Before the police arrived, the guy pulled a gun on my husband and then shot our baby for screaming. Then he shot the girlfriend (she survived) before turning the gun on himself.

I actually went into labor at the service for my son and husband. Now I have the most beautiful little girl in the world and she keeps me sane. I feel sad for her, though. She will never know her wonderful big brother or her special father. She will never have the protective arm of either one.

Still, I do what I can to give her a good life. I work hard and I have her in a wonderful day care center that encourages parents to pop in. I spend time with her in Mommy and Me on Saturdays and we are members of a really good church.

There are times like tonight, though, when I just want a drink, when I just want to forget what happened and pretend my little boy is in the other room sound asleep in his bed. There are times when I want to pretend my husband is at work and will be home for supper. There are times when I want to wake up and find out this past year was just a horrible nightmare.

I hear my little girl stirring. I guess I woke her up with my typing and moving around in here. I only hope and pray she never goes through what I did as a mother. One of these days, when she is old enough to understand, I will tell her how she saved my own sanity and how she is my personal hero.

My parents like to use the excuse that I do drugs because I am a homosexual. That is not true. I have known since I was fourteen that I was “gay” when I was more attracted to boys than I was girls. I did not get into drugs until my junior year. It had nothing to do with being gay, though. Truth of the matter is, it was one of my straight friends who talked me into trying it and before I knew it, I was hooked on crack.

As my grades started falling and my parents figured out I was on something, they began to believe it had to do with me being gay. They even set up an intervention for me. The intervention did work but it also worked where they were concerned as well. I broke down and told them flat out that I was not ashamed of being gay, it was my straight friends who got me hooked on crack, and I could accept that I had a drug problem a lot easier than my parents could accept me for me.

I went into rehab and got cleaned up. I had only been on crack for about four months. I was able to get my grades up. More importantly, something wonderful happened. During my rehab, we started family counseling. My parents finally accepted me for who I really am for the first time since I came out to them. We were able to have open heart to heart discussions. My parents came to realize that being attracted to boys did not mean something was wrong with me. It simply meant that I was attracted to guys and could not help it. That was just how I was born.

The big break through came the day my dad turned to me and said, “Son, I can accept that you are homosexual. I can not accept that I could lose you any day to crack cocaine.” Then he gathered me in his arms as he, my mom and I all three cried.

That was three years ago. I am now in college and I have a boyfriend. I brought him home over the Christmas holidays. I was nervous. This was the first serious relationship I had been in and I was scared about how my parents, especially my dad, would react. When they met my boyfriend, though, my dad just looked at him and asked if he was on any drugs. He said absolutely not. My dad smiled, shook his hand, and said he was glad to meet him. We had a great visit over the holidays. My parents even say to tell him hi when they call to touch base now that I am back at school.  I love that not only do my parents accept me but these days they accept friends like me as well.