Drug Addiction Stories & Info

I love to talk to my mama. Every day I tell her about how my day is going, my problems, my hopes, my dreams. She is right there, always listening. She does not put me down like she used to when she was hooked on drugs. She quietly listens, taking in every thing I say. I can cry, I can laugh, I can be angry and I have no fear of her hitting me or calling me names like she used to do when I was little.

My mama was not always a good parent. She partied all through school and on into her twenties. I was an unplanned pregnancy. She partied till my grandparents found out about me and they insisted on her getting treatment and round the clock supervision. I had a couple of learning disabilities as a child but by the grace of a higher power, I muddled through and did okay.

When my mama stopped taking drugs at 34, I was barely 16. I had mostly lived with my grandparents but having her off of drugs made it possible for me to visit with her every day. The day I got asked to the prom, I ran and told her. The day I picked out my prom dress, I dressed in it and showed it to her. I told her about my high school boyfriend proposing to me the night of our graduation. I shared all the details of my wedding with her and showed her pictures of our honeymoon. The day the doctor told me I was pregnant, I told my mother even before I told my husband.

I have two children now, a boy and a girl. My son is ten and my daughter is eight. My mother quietly listens as I share every important moment of their lives with her. With my family, I am busier these days and only get to visit with her every couple of weeks now on the weekend. She understands, though.

As I lay the flowers at her graveside, I tell her I love her. I tell her how much I have missed her every day since she died of an overdose at the age of 34. I pull out my children’s pictures and tell her how proud she would be of them and how proud she would be of me because I never hit them and I never drink or do drugs I thank her for giving me life and I thank her for allowing my grandparents to keep me when she could have just given me away because I have my own two children and my wonderful husband.

My mama just listens quietly. As I sit at her grave, I hear the peaceful tranquility and I know that somehow, somewhere, she sees me and is proud of me, too. We don’t talk about regrets. I know hers are monumental. I whisper “I love you, Mama” and walk out of the cemetery to hurry home to see my beloved son and daughter, the tears streaming down my face. Mama listens to me now.

I remember the day I found it. I was driving across the country, making a fresh start. Breaking up with the man I was suppose to marry in just a week wasn’t the reason for my move. I could have handled living in the same town. The fact that his new girlfriend was my cousin? That hurt. After driving for hours, I checked in to a cheap motel to get some sleep. I was planning to move to Florida. My best friend lived there. She was married to a military guy and he was set to go on temporary duty for three months. She said I could stay with her while looking for a job and an apartment.

I recognized the white powder for what it was: cocaine. I knew because that was what my cousin’s brother had died from, a cocaine overdose. Did that give her an excuse every time she went after something she wanted? I didn’t think so. She used it, though, even telling me I could find someone else because Mark understood her and everything she had been through.

What to do, though, about the powder I found. Do I turn it in at the front desk? Do I call the police? Do I get involved? I had slept for a few hours but arguing in the room next to mine woke me up about 4 in the morning. Thirsty, I had grabbed one of the plastic cups, accidentally knocking the small ice bucket off the counter. The powder was underneath it.

My cousin was a few years older than me. He had never really been into drugs. He was a great kid. But one night he partied with some friends after his team won the regional championship and he gave in to peer pressure. He drank some beer and when the cocaine was introduced to the party and passed around, he went for it. He died before morning from an accidental overdose.

 Yes, my cousin had been through a lot. She lost her beloved brother. She saw her parents divorce and her mother slip into a depression. I looked at that white powder and quickly made the decision to flush it down the toilet. I know kids die every day from drugs. No one was going to die because of the powder I held in my hands.

I grabbed my things and checked out immediately. That afternoon, I arrived at my best friend’s house. My new life was just beginning.

My husband saw the look of panic on my face when I came out of the bathroom. “What’s wrong?” he asked. I motioned for him to go in the bathroom with me and look out the window. Across the street was parked a familiar car, my ex boyfriend’s.

This would not have been a big deal except that seeing his car brought back memories of a time when I felt like a babysitter for a man five years older than me. We only dated a little while but he drank non-stop and mixed it with different drugs. I begged him repeatedly to stop before he ended up hurting himself. I hated the situation and tried to end the relationship only to have him overdose one night. I called 911 and he barely made it. The day I took him home from the hospital, I told him I could not remain in a relationship with someone who did drugs and drank the way he did. I had never been into drugs myself and would not see someone who put himself at risk like that. He hollered at me that I was abandoning him when he needed me most. He walked towards me with a look on his face like he wanted to hit me but a knock at the front door stopped him. It was his brother and I quickly exited his house while they were talking.

Shortly afterwards, I met the wonderful man who would become my husband but seeing my ex boyfriend’s car brought back painful memories. My husband understood and held me close, urging me to move away from the window.

A little while later, we went to leave our home to go out for an early Sunday dinner. We saw my ex boyfriend leaving our neighbor’s house. He was carrying a beer and stumbled as he walked towards his car. My husband looked at me, then got out of our truck and walked across the street. He stood there talking to my ex boyfriend until his neighbor came out. My husband then mentioned that he was worried because we had seen him stumble. The neighbor then took his keys away and convinced him to go back in and sleep it off on the couch.

I squeezed my husband’s hand as we drove to the restaurant, grateful that I had the greatest guy in the world by my side, a man who even stepped up and got involved even when it concerned an ex boyfriend just so he would not hurt himself or someone else. The car was still there when we returned home but gone the next morning when we got up to get ready for work.

I am grateful I ended the relationship but still worried to this day that my ex boyfriend will eventually kill himself or someone else. He did not listen to me or get help like I begged him to back then and it looks like he still hasn’t to this day.