Drug Addiction Stories

I had it all. I was at the college of my dreams on a football scholarship. I had the girls falling all over themselves to be with me and the coach and my dad said pro scouts were taking notes. I had it all. Then I got a bad case of the flu and I just could not shake it no matter what. So one of my teammates told me to see a doctor friend of his and the guy put me on steroids. There was no problem of getting hooked because steroids are not physically addictive 

Wrong. As I got back to the way I felt and played and surpassed it, I found myself needing the steroids more and more. If I went without them, I got paranoid and worried about my game. I needed them. There was no question.

When my coach found out, I got benched. One day he called me into his office and my parents and my favorite professor as well as my best friend and girlfriend were all there. They told me that they knew steroids could help some people but that they could also ruin lives. The coach and my dad told me I was a good player. My professor told me I was bright and had many options even if football didn’t pan out professionally but that I should not risk all of my chances by being on steroids.

They worked with me. They even got me a counselor who helped me understand that yes, there can be a psychological addiction and that was what happened to me. The more he worked with me, the more he and the support group he set me up with talked to me, the more I understood that I had gotten in over my head and out of control regarding the steroids.

My family, my coach, my professor, my best friend and my girlfriend stood behind me and supported me as well. After making sure I was clean with random testing that happened often, I was able to play again. I signed a deal after college and I was on my way.

That was several years back. When I hear of another player losing it all over steroids, I pick up the phone and call four people while the beautiful college girlfriend who is now my wife holds my hand. I tell my best friend thank you and congratulate him on the success he has found in his own chosen field as a counselor. I tell my old professor thanks as I tell him that I think that degree is going to come in handy as I get set to retire soon. I call my old coach and thank him for being a coach who cared more about his players than the game, because to him that was the secret of a successful team. As always, I tell my parents thank you. My dad and my coach are my heroes. The fact that I am here today speaks to the truth of that statement.

High school was one of the greatest experiences of my life.  I was on the football team, had a beautiful girlfriend and I was headed to a scholarship at my dream college.  Then I broke my collarbone. I was benched for the rest of the season.  The pain was awful and my doctor put me on oxycontin.  When it came time to get off of it, I fudged and told him I was still in pain.  He had no choice but to believe me.  You see, the oxycontin helped me forget that my life was over in my opinion.

My mother became concerned about my medication.  Although I was an adult in the eyes of the law, having turned 18 just days before my injury, I was still her child and she badgered my doctor about monitoring my medication.  He could not really discuss it with her but he told me he was going to stop my prescription at my next appointment.  I panicked.

That is when I went to talk to one of the kids I had never really hung out with but who was rumored at school to be able to get his hands on anything.  It cost me a lot but he was able to keep me in oxycontin for the rest of the school year.

My mother, however, was not about to let me turning 18 prevent her from stepping in and she bugged me constantly about the changes she was seeing in my personality, my grades and my day to day life.  My girlfriend dumped me.  My friends on the football team stopped coming around.  I am sure I cared but the addicted state I was in prevented me from really feeling much of anything at that point.

Then one day in May, I came home from school and my mother was in the living room with my grandparents, my uncles and our minister.  There was a stranger there, too.  They did what was called an intervention.  The stranger was a drug counselor and they all told me I needed help.  I was so angry that they had teamed up on me.  I felt like I was in the end zone being tackled with my teammates just standing on the sidelines.

That was not really the case, though.  My family were my teammates but they were supporting me 100%.  They had my back.  They got me into a treatment program.  My family saved my life.  Because of the intervention that day, I was able to be there the following August when my mother needed me the most.