06/03/2011

PART ONE OF TWO

Hi everyone,

Before going any further, I want to preface this entry by stating that it is based solely on my own personal experiences and those of people I know. I welcome all your comments and opinions, even if they are different than mine, as long as it’s done respectfully.

Today I want to talk about addiction. Chances are you or someone you know has an addiction. Maybe more than one. This entry is about my battle with addiction and how it affects my life.

My first experience with drugs and alcohol happened when I was about 13. It started with pot and cheap beer and that was pretty much the extent of it for several years. I didn’t particularly like the effects of pot, mostly it made me self-conscious (and I sure didn’t need more of that) and it made me hungry and tired. Sometimes it made me laugh hysterically. I would get high with my best friend, or go over to the ballfield around the corner from my house where a bunch of us would hang out and drink beer. I hated the taste of beer but everyone else drank it and I did enjoy the effects of a beer buzz.

Throughout my teen years, I also experimented with a few other drugs, mainly pills. The lady I babysat for treated my like an adult and was more like a friend to me than an employer. She introduced me to Valium(some friend) and I loved them. Her friend worked at the pharmacy of a neighborhood drugstore and it was nothing for her to get (steal) bottles of 100 at a time, I also loved what was called ‘black beauties’, speed. I loved the effects of it, I wasn’t hungry and I had tons of energy.

I quit pretty much of all of it by the time I hit my 20’s. I would occasionally smoke a little pot but it was still never my thing. I could always take it or leave and most of the time I left it. When Aimee’s dad (Bob) and I got together and then I got pregnant, I didn’t do any type of drugs for many years.

This all changed in 1996 when I fell in love. Bob and I had split up after 15 years. A lot of things seemed to be going wrong in my life. I lost my job (downsizing) after being there almost 10 years. We were like a family there and it hit me really hard. The first guy I dated after Bob tried to molest my daughter which really messed me up. I felt so horrible, like I had failed her by bringing this man into her life. The guilt I assumed weighed very heavily on me. I went to a neighborhood bar that my roommate frequented. It was a little hole in the wall but I like hole in the wall places. I pretty much knew everyone there and that was comforting to me. I continued to go a few more times, and as I had secretly hoped, ran into my old boyfriend Larry.

Larry was my first grown-up relationship. We met when I was 17 and I fell hard, as only a 17 year old girl can. I lost my heart and my virginity to him. He was 6 years older, divorced and very handsome and charming. He flirted with me like crazy and I loved it. We started going out and while my love for him grew by the minute, he was just having a good time. I don’t mean he didn’t care for me, but it was obvious my feelings for him were much deeper than his for me. His priorities were partying and his friends. We did have a lot of fun together but he broke my heart many times over. After we broke up, for years I would soak any little piece of information I heard about him. My heart would race when I would occasionally run into him. I think I loved him, on some level, for almost 25 years.

And now here we were, I was 35 years old, no longer an impressionable young virgin (ha!) and he was doing his absolute best to get me interested in him again. I have to admit, I thoroughly enjoyed his efforts and took great pleasure in turning him down. But of course I eventually gave in and started seeing him again. I foolishly thought this might be fate, a second chance for a real adult relationship with him. And besides, after what happened with that one guy, I felt safe with Larry because I had known him so long.

I also foolishly ignored all the gossip I had heard about him over the years. Rumors of his drinking and drug involvement were things I heard from more than one person. I especially remember hearing that he had done crack. This both horrified me and fascinated me. I thought crack was something that only people over in DC did, something you heard about on the news. How naive I was!

So here we were, more than 15 years later, together again. It didn’t take long before he did crack in front of me for the first time. I remember so clearly him telling me to never touch this drug. It was too powerful, too dangerous. He reminded me of this many times throughout the next few years. I think it saved his conscience thinking that he had warned me.

But how many times could I watch him do it before curiosity overtook me? The answer is 3. Remember how I said I fell in love? Well I did and I wasn’t talking about with Larry. This was my drug! This was the feeling I had been searching for my whole life. It seemed to happen in the blink of an eye. It started out slowly but it quickly gained momentum, rapidly sending me into a 3 year spiral of a hellish existence I wouldn’t wish on anyone. At first it was fun. I soon found out that crack was very available in my town, my neighborhood. I quickly went from doing it a few times a week, spending maybe $40 a night, to wanting to do it every chance I got, spending every penny I could get my hands on.

I easily caught on to the lingo, became an expert at scoring the drug. This consisted of going into neighborhoods I would have never ventured into before. Traveling into DC, 2 and 3 in the morning, having my car surrounded by young black men who wanted to sell me their goods, became the norm. I easily established a rapport with 2 or 3 of the dealers in town. I had it so good I could get drugs on credit, delivered to me any time day or night. I thrived in my new role as the girl who could always score. Going into town, getting drugs without getting ripped off or busted was a thrill in itself. At the time I was getting unemployment and spending every bit of it on drugs.

I lived with my mom at the time, Aimee and I. I thank God for that because Aimee always had her grandma. I did most of my drug using in our basement. I don’t know what to say about my mom. She had always been good at sticking her head in the sand, not seeing what she didn’t want to see. I now know she was in early stages of Alzheimer’s disease which made it even easier to be oblivious to what was going on. Aimee was never abused but she definitely lost the mother she knew.

I believe most, if not all, addicts are born that way. The addiction may lay dormant for years, but once it is fed it is a powerful force. I could go on and on about the terrible things I did while on drugs. The money I stole, the lies I told. Being held up at gunpoint, being pulled over by the cops on a regular basis, having social services become involved because of Aimee. I became a complete stranger to my friends and family and myself. I went from being a good mother, a good daughter, a good friend, to someone no one could trust. I spent every penny of my 10 years worth of retirement money on drugs. I sold my car and spent the money on drugs. I pawned my jewelry and spent the money on drugs. I got jobs, some really good jobs and lostthem. The one thing I never did was trade sex for drugs but who knows what would have happened if I hadn’t got out when I did. It’s all an ugly ugly story and even today, with 10 years of sobriety, I still feel deep shame and guilt when I think about it. I’m not sure I could tell any of you this face to face even though I have told my story many times in AA/NA meetings.

So how did I become drug and alcohol free? Well let me tell you, I quit many times. So many times I would throw away all my drug paraphernalia, swear this was it. Go to a meeting, confess my sins, swear this was it. Promise God that this was it. But finally I just got tired. Mostly of being broke. Moving away, even though it was just to the other side of town, was a big help. Meetings helped. Larry going to jail helped. Above all, prayer helped. I am such a believer in the power of prayer. I have to pray every day. Every morning, little prayers throughout the day and my bedtimes prayers. I’ve been praying as long as I can remember. But while I was using I didn’t pray at all. I think I knew, if I prayed for God to help me, He would. And I wasn’t ready until I was ready.

Okay I’m afraid I’m going to have to do something I’ve rarely done before – continue this entry. I am tired and cannot finish all I have to say tonite. I’m sorry.