Drug Addiction Stories

I found them as we were cleaning up the house to do some changes. We were getting marred soon and getting the place ready to move my things out of storage. I asked him about the pills I found. They were prescriptions and I was concerned about his health. He quickly assured me that he was fine and that the painkillers were old. They were outdated by about a year. I asked him why they were hidden. 

He told me he had a friend from college stay with him for a while and he had noticed several changes in him during the four years they had not been around each other. He had invited his friend to stay with him while he was finding a job and getting his feet on the ground so to speak. It wasn’t too long though, before he began finding things missing and discovered his friend was on drugs and pawning stuff. He got his stuff back and talked his friend into rehab.

He seemed sad as he told me the story about his friend. I asked him what had happened to the guy and why the prescription bottles were still hidden. He said his friend’s mother had pleaded with him to let the guy stay with him after rehab. Things were going good until his friend met a girl who was on painkillers and before he knew it, his friend was back drugs himself and the painkillers my boyfriend had been given following a motorcycle accident were disappearing faster than he was taking them.

“I confronted him again. This time he wouldn’t be helped because his girlfriend kept denying they had a problem.” He ended up asking his friend to leave and had to change the locks on his doors and install a security system.

“The friend I had in college? He wasn’t the same one who was here. It was like they were two different people. He had turned into a stranger.” 

We flushed the prescriptions down the toilet as they were expired. I had only seen that look of sadness on his face once before, and that was when he talked about his parents’ passing. I asked him if he knew where his friend was these days. He nodded. His friend’s mother had called to tell him that her son and the girlfriend had committed suicide together by overdosing. They had left a note saying they couldn’t find jobs and there was nothing to live for.

I held him close to me as he told me the story about his friend. He had helped his friend before, yet this last time he refused help. I knew then what the survivors’ guilt felt like that I had heard about.  My boyfriend cared about his friend, tried to help him, yet still felt bad because of his friend’s choice not to get help a second time.  Now he was drowning in a feeling of guilt he didn’t deserve to have

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.

My stepbrother committed suicide a few years ago.  He had a problem with drugs most of his adult life.  Many times we tried to get help for him but he stayed in denial.  It caused psychological problems for him as well and eventually, he took his own life.  Out of that tragedy, my nephew’s life was saved.

At the funeral, I hugged my nephew who I had not seen in just over a year.  I told him if he ever needed anything to call me, as my stepbrother was my brother without DNA.  A couple of weeks later, he did.  It was nearly 3 a.m. but I answered to hear my nephew say, “Aunt Teresa, can I please come over?  I keep thinking about Daddy and I am scared I may hurt myself.”

I told him yes.  I called a taxi to pick him up and paid for it when it arrived.  I hugged my nephew and poured him a cup of hot chocolate I had made for him while waiting.  He had always loved hot chocolate.

Tommy turned to me and said he felt so hurt over his daddy’s suicide that he thought about doing the same thing.  But he did not want to put his mom or his two brothers through another one.  He was desperate, hurting, on cocaine and did not know what to do.  Both of his parents had been on drugs his entire life.

I went to the phone and called a hotline.  I spoke to a wonderful counselor who also talked to Tommy.  I was confident that Tommy would be okay with me but the counselor thought we should make it over there anyway.  As I drove, I told Tommy some of the things his dad and I had done as teenagers.  He was actually laughing by the time we pulled up.

I still miss my brother.  I will always believe that, in some way we can not fathom, he helped Tommy and I connect again so that I could help my nephew.  Today Tommy is married and the proud father of a beautiful little girl.  He helps out at the same center that helped him that night long ago.  I have sort of adopted his little one as my granddaughter and Tommy still loves to hear stories about his dad’s antics as a teenager.  I think my stepbrother Alan would be proud of his son.  I know I certainly am proud of the young man who reached out and got help that night.  When his daughter is older, I can not wait to tell her just how special her daddy is.