Drug Addiction Stories & Info

I go to a wonderful church. We usually take a break between the singing part of our service and the lesson and walk around and greet visitors and say hi to our friends. I noticed her sitting on the very back pew and went over to introduce myself. “Hi, I’m Lisa, how are you today? ”

She smiled and said she was fine. “You went to Burkburnett High School, didn’t you?” she asked. I told her yes I did but it had been close to 20 years ago. She said she remembered me. “I’m Stephanie. I was in your class.” Then she said something that completely surprised me and changed my entire view of passing friendships. “You never knew this, Lisa, but you saved my life.”

Stephanie told me about the day she had decided to commit suicide. She felt like an outcast at school and hated going. She was miserable and said she had reached the point where she just did not want to try anymore. She told me I had walked up to her and given her a high five and said hello.

I felt humbled as I listened to her words. I honestly did not remember it. Still, she described everything so vividly, confessing that it was still with her and that every time she felt down, she remembered that day.

We went out to lunch after service that day, catching up on each other’s lives. She had relapsed recently but thought maybe she could make it this time if she believed in something more powerful than the heroin that kept enticing her. I introduced her to a friend who led the Celebrate Recovery group and she once again told me I was saving her life. I just felt like I was doing what anyone would do for a friend.

When Stephanie told me she was writing about this experience and asked me to share my side of it, I hesitated. I felt bad about not remembering something so important to her. She said the important thing was sharing it now so that she could perhaps give back to someone what I helped her see all those years ago so for Stephanie, I am writing this.

Oh, and Stephanie? Be proud of who you are, my friend. You have come a long way and I am just as blessed by our friendship as you are.

I sat there with the other inmates and watched her walk out the door. People come and go when you are in the tank. I had been here myself this time about seven or eight weeks. I had heard all of the stories, nothing was ever anyone’s fault. I certainly played the blame game myself, having been an LVN and losing my license and control of my life to my addiction to heroin. 

She was different, though. She was actually a few years older than me. She did not blame society, other people or anyone but herself for what she had done. Her name was Nora and she also held her head high, saying she would do the same thing again. When her story got out around the tank, some people scoffed. Most of us who had been in repeatedly knew the score. She was definitely a different breed.

I stole drugs from the clinic where I worked. She wrote several hot checks. I stole prescription sheets from the doctor I worked for and wrote bogus ‘scripts for non-existent patients, then traded them off for heroin. She fed her kids with the checks she wrote at grocery stores. She said it was wrong, but when you have a sick kid, you can not work because of his medical care schedule and no one is around to help, you do what you have to when it comes to your kids.  It was her choice.  She made no excuses. 

I stole to feed my addiction. She stole to feed her kids. I blamed everything else. She blamed herself. I looked around at those of us in the tank who had blamed exes, parents, friends, bosses. She quietly went about her business the few days she was there reading. One of the long term women began picking on her. She ignored it. When a young girl came in terrified and was picked on, however, the mama bear in her came out and she stood up to the cell block bully bitch and would not back down. The bully went to the guard to complain and was shocked when the rest of the women stood up for Nora. They were sick of the bully behavior themselves.

When Nora left, those of us left behind had the usual feelings of jealousy, wishful thinking and resentment mixed with being happy for her. I watched her leave, took a breath and went over to the phone and called my own mother collect. “Mom, it’s me. When I get out next week, will you drive me over to the rehab center? It is my fault I am in here and on drugs. I want to get cleaned up for good this time.”

I had forgotten this feeling. One of freedom and euphoria without drugs. A feeling of remembering every part of the day and evening without blackouts associated with it. My experience with drugs is parallel to the ups and downs of Mother Nature.

I had been a pretty normal teenager. Stayed out of trouble, decent grades in high school and enjoying extra curricular activities such as sports and drama club. Then I got into the college of my dreams but at the same time, my dad died. Suddenly I was facing financial problems because my mom was barely getting by with two more kids left at home. There was no life insurance, my dad worked at a factory.

I worked two jobs and went to school. Then one night I took off and went to a party with a friend from Theater class. That was the night I tried heroin for the first time and the night I my life changed for the second time.

Life during that time was like Mother Nature: storm warnings, dark clouds, volcano eruptions. I was missing class and missing work but barely made it through my freshman year with Cs and Ds. Over the summer, my mother caught the changes and went Hurricane Mom on me. She told me that she was not going to let me throw my life away and that I owed it to myself and to the memory of my dad to get help. She got me into drug rehab.

The treatment program was a God send. The counseling not only helped me work out the tools I needed to get clean but it also helped me with the grief I still felt over my dad dying. I spent most of the summer in the program and after talking to my mom, decided to finish college locally so I could live at home and have my family’s support.

I am a junior now. My sophomore year was a lot easier. Sure, it would have been nice to stay at the college that had been my first choice but in the end, I know that being with Mom and my brother and sister is best for now. My mom and I have long talks and she is my best friend.

These days I feel like someone who has been released. I still miss my dad but I know that he is up there somewhere watching over me. My dad loved the ocean and when I walk along the coastline not too far from our home, I know he is out there watching over me, my mom and my brother and sister. I feel the calm presence of the sea and I remember the times my dad used to run along the shoreline and we would along behind him. I love being drug free again and feeling those old feelings and memories.