I stood by my brother while he battled heroin, please don’t judge me as I wrestle grief, anxiety and PTSD.

It has been a year since I woke up to my mother screaming Jeff was dead. A year since he did not show up to my birthday and I had a minute long blank voicemail at midnight. A year since a horrible fight that is forever ingrained in my mind as I saw him crying leaving the house. A year since my last laugh with him. He knew I was upset over something and came home to me planking on the ground and he blasted DMX at the computer and waited for me to look up at him so he could do that high pitched bird laugh and yell, “we fighting?!” The thing about Jeff was he just knew he could change your mood through laughter. I miss only being allowed to cry for 5 minutes. It has been a year and I never thought I would make it to this day.  You might have been through worse. You might think my problems are stupid or I am weak, but this is my story so please respect it.

I went through HELL with that boy. I wasn’t just there for the good times—I never turned my back or took shelter during the storm. Years of worrying. Phone calls at school or work. Hoping I wouldn’t get THAT call. Seeing someone so smart that he never even had to try, get wrapped up in all this. Someone with so much talent and passion. Seeing my life affected always trying to protect him or stand up for him. Sleeping in my own car, showering at work. It is no secret I lost a lot of my own life in these years. So after all those years when he finally got sober, it meant the world to us. We were so close because he knew I gave up so much for him and he was grateful for the people who didn’t give up on him. Even in shelters, he would always find his way to a phone so he could check in with me and make sure I was ok. ME?? The most selfless human being I ever knew. He was an amazing human. He knew I’d never enable him but he knew I’d always be there. He knew I would ride around to find him when he didn’t have a phone to give him a bag of food and new socks. He knew I’d pick him up somewhere at 2 am just because he needed someone to talk to. He went through HELL and saw and did things others could NEVER imagine. The same people who wanted to sit back and judge him and he still would give them the shirt off his back. When he did get sober we talked so much about all of this. It was painful for me because a side of me was resentful for what this did to our family, but I was never more proud of someone. His battle ahead to change his life was overwhelming, even for me to think about. The bills that racked up over the 9 years. The medical bills were so outrageous and when he did slip up and want help, it would just add to it. Seeing how much of his life he lost and how far everyone else moved on. Hanging with friends and drinking was once normal, but now it’s a gateway to other things. Things that are easily accessible. It’s like people who smoke when they drink and we are habitual creatures. His teeth needing work after the years of drugs and one surgery can set him back again. But keep judging. As he wrote, “each time I slip, the less you pity.” I saw the people slowly walking away again. I felt my burden getting bigger again.

Let me tell you this. That last time he was in rehab, the people who took the time to bring him cigarettes or write letter should know it meant the world to him just to know he was being thought of – that someone still cared. But I could see the depression worsen that this was all happening again to him. I would walk through his room to the laundry room and see him in the darkness alone in bed. He knew I was angry with him and didn’t want to go through this again. But he knew how much I still stood up for him and the person he was despite my anger and would get out of that bed and come up and sit with me and watch lifetime movies and eat cereal with me for dinner, knowing I wouldn’t turn him away. That I was still here. He barely left home. Our last breakfast out together we sat in the car for 3 hours waiting to get into The Farmers Daughter. We picked out all the concerts we wanted to go to that summer and he talked about how nice it was to be out and treated normal because he felt like he couldn’t without being judged with every move and it was better to stay in alone, away from the negativity and be sober than go out where things would set him back. I didn’t know at the time how much I would understand that a year later. I couldn’t stop the hurtful things people would say to him.

After this, when he did overdose the second time he spent 9 days in a mental hospital without anyone knowing, not even me. I ran right there when I found out and knew, I KNEW this would tear him apart. The first thing he said was who knows I am here. He was crying saying how depressed he was and everyone thought badly of him. Said how the judgments and accusations make him want to use. He kept asking me how much an ambulance costs. How much do I think this stay at the mental hospital would cost. I will just never forget saying lets come up with a plan and we can get through this. To try and not listen to what people say or call him. Saying I wouldn’t go home if he wasn’t going home. I kept saying the third time will be it and this is what happens to people who were sober for a while and what will happen to everyone. I went down the list one by one and predicted what would happen to everyone once he died, to try and scare him. I was selfish and kept saying what will happen to me and he PROMISED me it wasn’t going to happen. I cried the entire way home. We all know what happened after.

Well now I know what will happen to me after he dies. And it is even worse than I thought because he is not here to make it better for once. I now know partly how he felt in the end. How it is impossible to not let the judgments and things said eat away at you when it is coming from every aspect of your life. I am just one person’s life that was affected after his death, so you can only imagine the others. But I can only speak for myself with this.

For anyone else struggling with depression, this is for you. You are not alone. It has been HELL. Living with the memory of that last night and how upset Jeff was has been HELL. Trying to plan his funeral and party in that much pain was HELL. Seeing him DEAD? HELL. I touched him which was cool and creepy and just what he would want me to be doing, but it was still HELL. But when it was all said and done and everyone goes back to their normal lives, I had to go live in HELL. That’s when the real fun starts. I was left by someone at my worst a week after he died. I was not getting texts from Jeff anymore. I was not getting told to bring back wine or he would lock my ass out. I wasn’t getting told to hurry up and get home so we can cook on the grill or go out to watch a game. No one was coming in recording me doing the Insanity workouts and laughing at how dumb I looked. Or getting pissed when they are sleeping on the couch and I turn the treadmill on right behind them. I am not yelling at anyone to get the hell out of the bathroom and stop using my shampoo to shave themselves. I am not helping anyone pick out outfits or ordering stupid stuff together offline. No one to meet in the kitchen every 10 minutes for another bowl of Reeses puffs after mom just bought the box. The food store? FORGET IT. I have anxiety going to it because the joy has been taken out of it. It sounds stupid to others but we always had each other when no one else was around and simple everyday things like eating meals with someone or watching movies was now something I did alone. Music was no longer playing. The everyday songs I wish he would stop playing were no longer playing. I can’t text him and tell him to shut up with the Johnny Cash depressing shit and then hear him blast that song “Torn” by Natalie something and ask me if that’s better. The joy was taken out of most things this year. Holidays with that empty chair. No longer shopping together. No longer riding to events together. Not picking out mom’s Easter flowers together. The happy memories of past holidays aren’t enough to take away the pain of the new ones.

But I still somehow got up. I tried my best. I tried to keep going even though some days were worse than others. But the judgments? Over the past year I’ve realized people have a lot to say. People who miss the past 20 days you were happy, but see a breakdown and feel the need to judge just that. People who do not have to come home to his room. See his toothbrush standing. His guitar waiting to be played and his hats lined up waiting to be put on. Who is going to go through everything? Where does it go? Do you throw it out? Who is worthy of getting things? What things do you want to let go of? Who is going to the RMV to claim him dead? Who is paying the bills now? Who is left with all that debt? Who is going to get rid of his car and see it towed off the driveway? All of the firsts were HELL. Every day is a constant reminder that he is not here anymore. People are not there for that but still feel the need to judge. Tell you what you should be doing. How you should be feeling. What ever happened to just listening? It is a lot, but imagine being that person. You tell them not to let it affect you, but when it’s coming from all angles it eats away at you. Off the top of my head these are just a FEW common things said:

-Get over it (my favorite)
-Move on
-It’s been months
-You looked so good what happened
-Jesus you look awful go see someone
-You shouldn’t be having a breakdown anymore
-I wish you were who you used to be
-You aren’t sleeping? Just sleep and stop thinking about it
-You are sleeping too much
-You aren’t eating enough
-You are eating too much
-You shouldn’t be drinking. Should she be drinking??
-You should be drinking
-You aren’t drinking because you don’t want to have fun
-You aren’t dancing? You feel guilty having fun. What if I just don’t want to!??!
-You are working out too much. You are working out too little. -You don’t run anymore? Must be because of Jeff
-Did you do drugs with Jeff too? She must have
-You should be out with people
-You should be home
-Go see someone again
-You are handling this bad
-Be positive- NO SHIT
-Be grateful of what you do have.
-You should be at work
-You shouldn’t be at work
-If I am upset, it HAS to be about Jeff.
-I’m sick of hearing it
-She posts on his wall too much. If it makes me happy, why do you care????
-People preaching afterlife on me
-Drunk people’s sober thoughts
-I wish you would see the other side in this! Just let me vent and I will one day.
-I don’t want to tell you about my problems because I feel bad
they don’t seem as bad
-I wish you were dead instead of Jeff
-You are a poor substitute for your brother
-She is history repeating itself
-Live your own life
-Stop doing stuff for Jeff. Time to move on now. WHAT!? This is my life. If me fighting for others in his name is a problem, unfollow me. DON’T go to anything. Some talk about helping and I’m doing it. Sue me. Who else is planning anything? But everyone wants to say things about it.

I have found myself in my room alone most days because of the fear of getting more hurt by people after the year I have had. The combination of things said and done on top of Jeff dying has torn me apart to a level which I did not want to live and had moments I have tried to end it. I have had a therapist mortified by some of the hurtful things. Maybe the people around me should see someone also. I’ve had people continue to use similar drugs around me and be mad at my reaction. I did not have a CHOICE in how this all affected my body. My heart was broken by various things so much this past year that it took a toll on my body. The amount of hair I have lost. Going WEEKS without sleep at times over the year to the point where I would hear things or even fear driving home from work. Months of no sleep affected my body to the point where there were many times I had to receive fluids to get strength. My skin hurt to touch and the amount of times I have thrown up, I’m surprised I can still speak. My eyes are constantly swollen from crying and I swear I’ve aged so much in a year. I denied medications for obvious reasons. That opens up another can of worms. Let me be sad and feel feelings. I will know when I am getting happy again. When I finally did go out, the things I wrote above would be said bringing me back down, no matter how good I felt that day. Someone would comment on how bad I am doing when it’s the first day I didn’t think about ending my life. THAT is what would tear me apart.

Again, call me weak but until you have been there, maybe people should think about the power of listening. Even though you don’t understand. Even though you think you would handle it differently if it was you. Even if you are exhausted by it. To the FEW that have listened and have been there for me this year, you will forever be in my life. You listened to what does help me or may help others and built me back up. You supported me at my worst. You didn’t choose fun or happier people over me, you chose to get me through this so I could be that person again. I know the pain is not and will never be over, but I have made it through this year of firsts. I have gotten up and done my best. Despite all of that pain I still tried to actively fight for others in the name of my brother because I have a fire inside telling me to do so. I hope my story helps anyone who feels alone in their depression. To everyone–Be kind. Listen. You may be the one person who helps someone through. Stop comparing the pain. Stop judging unless you know that pain. RIP Jeff. You will always be the most amazing person I have ever known and I hope to always make you proud and will keep going for you. You always said I did too much for people and to not change that about myself and maybe it is what will help someone else in this life. I hope you are drinking a beer and laughing at how long this is. I’m having one now for you too Love you always

 

Tara Lane put together a team in Jeff’s name and spoke at Teen Challenge’s Run to End Addiction 5K which was held on May 6, 2017 that raised over $40,000. Jeff’s team came in first with 86 members raising almost $6,000. The race money helped in funding an additional 46 (!!) beds recently opened at the Teen Challenge Men’s Treatment Center in Brockton, MA and will go towards helping fund an additional treatment center being built in Brockton. Tara was invited to attend the Additional Beds Ceremony at Teen Challenge Brockton. It was a bittersweet goal for her to be such a large part of adding treatment beds as she remembers so clearly how difficult it was to find an open bed when Jeff was in need of one.

Tara spoke at the Annual Overdose Vigil held in Brockton, MA on August 24th, 2017, where she recited her brother’s poem he wrote the day after losing his friend Lance Fiske on August 23, 2008. He wrote the poem exactly 8 years prior to the date the vigil was held on. She said she knew it was meant to be read out-loud to THAT crowd. Seeing her family and friends sit with Lance’s family was truly a memorable moment for her.

Tara was asked to be on the fundraiser/event committee for Teen Challenge’s Expanding Boarders Banquets held on October 14th and 15th of 2017 that raised close to $200,000!! The money raised will not only go towards the treatment of addicts who want to change their lives, but will help Teen Challenge open the new treatment center in Brockton, MA in 2018.

Tara is living the words of her brother Jeff, ‘Don’t talk about it, be about it.’

 




HELPless

Life’s on the line, each time’s a risk,
Yesterday we lost Lance Fiske.
I’ll say my peace and shed a light
To a disease which many fight.
I won’t expect you to connect,
Please just listen, & show respect.

Summers ago we played baseball,
Seen him in the halls each fall.
Sacred Heart, East Junior High
Amiable, our last goodbye.
Although his life came to an end,
I’m glad to say he was my friend.
Unless you have been to this dance
You’ve got no idea what took our Lance.
A life of suffering, a life of pain
He’s in the sun, out of the rain.
R.I.P. Lance Fiske (9/23/86 – 8/23/09)

How long can I carry this burden?
Life’s full of triggers, relapse is certain.
The music, the T.V., the friends & the town,
The guilt & depression start bringing me down.
Each time I slip, the less you pity,
I find my answers downtown in the city.

I need your love now, much more than you know
But I have no strength, to tell you ALL so.
All it will take, to end this long war,
Is one lost fight, & you’ll see me no more.
I wish this pain, would go away
I hope that things, will end ok.

(But)
Truth be told, my body’s cold
This disease of mine is getting old.
(and)
I’m Helpless, without friends & fam
Struggling, to hold on to, who I am.

I don’t know why, I don’t know how
I’m supposed to deal, with all this now.
So time will tell my story now
I’ve lost the strength to help myself.
I’m Helpless.
I’m Helpless.
I beg to have, a normal life
Friends & fam, one day a wife.
Yet I am plagued, by sins & lies
It’s my own friends who now despise
The man I am, what I’ve become
No faith in me, to overcome.
A broken bond, a choice all theirs,
Friends who had, justified fears,
I understand, No right to judge
It’s me who sinks inside the sludge.

Your backs are turned, you’re eyes are closed
It’s all my fault, this life I chose.
The blame is cast, I’ve been shut out
for my mistakes, my different route.
No sins forgave, no lies ignored
They split from me, on their accord.

I never chose to cross my friends,
but they’re still gone, & now I fend,
All by myself, try not to cry
I carry on, but rather die.

Inside I shout, inside I scream,
You do not know the hell I’ve seen
No one to share my sorrows with,
No one to split this Henny fifth.

I don’t know how I’ve come this far
Restless nights, under the stars.
I’ve slept some nights out on the street,
I’ve sometimes slept up on my feet.
The things I’ve seen, the things I’ve done
Not much to boast, life on the run,
When sunlight shines, I want to stay
under my sheets and fade away.
I want to quit, I really do.
But everyday I have the flu.
Each day alive, worse than before
All muscles ache, whole body’s sore.
I get on up & get the cure.
I guess tomorrow, I’ll stop for sure.

My life comes first, before my feelings
Self-medication for instant healing
This is my life, but hope I’m wrong
A bad nightmare which last too long
I hope I wake, make an escape
I do not know if I can take
Another day full of this shit.
I’m really sick, & sick of it.
An imploding body, my head might explode
If the cycle don’t end, then death I forebode.
I wish this pain, would go away
I hope that things, will end ok.

(But)
Truth be told, my body’s cold
This disease of mine is getting old.
(and)
I’m Helpless, without friends & fam
Struggling, to hold on to, who I am.

I don’t know why, I don’t know how
I’m supposed to deal, with all this now.
So time will tell my story now
I’ve lost the strength to help myself.
I’m Helpless.

I’m Helpless.

8/24/09

——————————————————————————–

– Written by Jeffrey P. Lane (2/20/85 – 4/29/16)

– For Lance Fiske (9/23/86 – 8/23/09)

——————————————————————————–

About Jeff Lane (written by his sister Tara Lane)

To say Jeff loved music is an understatement. His passion for the art was insatiable. He was such a naturally smart, unique soul and this shined through anything he did. Jeff understood the power of using music to bring joy to others lives or as a way to speak to them in a way like no other. I have always been blown away by his vast knowledge of every genre and his ability to know exactly what someone wanted to hear or what song they were talking about.  Using that power, he learned to DJ at a young age and it was no surprise he then later taught himself how to read music and to play the guitar. He was always writing in his books, whether it was song lyrics or actual melodies.  He could never learn enough about music, whether it was how to write it, how to create it, the meanings behind songs or even just about the artists or bands themselves. So much of our time spent together consisted of him having me listen to something or watch something on an artist or band he loved. Prince and Slash are the reason he wanted to pick up a guitar in the first place and I cannot tell you enough how many times I saw the movie Purple Rain or was made to watch a video of Slash. Jeff was so passionate about things that it was infectious. It was impossible to not gain the same love for music. I’ll never forget the day we drove somewhere together and I went from current hits, to 50’s oldies, to EDM, to Rap and probably threw in some rock and he looked at me when we parked and said, “I’ve taught you well my young disciple.”  We laughed so hard. He made you want to listen to anything he was interested in. He was known for putting a song on and staring at you until you realized what he did-whether it was an inside joke or he wanted you out of the mood you were in-or just making fun of the mood you were in. He could turn moods like I’ve never seen! I will never forget that stare 😊

After an off and on battle of almost 10 years, Jeff lost his life to his addiction in 2016. Coming across pieces like this that Jeff wrote is such an amazing gift. He had such a way with words to have something so real and painful turn into something so beautiful. That is true talent. Writing this back in 2009 when he was at his worst, overdose rates were not nearly as high as they are today.  The stigma on addicts was so tough that there was not as much interest in reading something like this or in helping make changes. Now in 2017, addiction touches almost every household in America in some way.  Now people WANT to read something as real as this that sheds light on a disease that is killing so many.  Now people WANT help in understanding this epidemic. There is barely any room in programs for people who do want help, and if there is, many are turned away because they cannot afford it. For those who do get help, it is a life long battle to stay sober and this is where many struggle. There are many who do understand the depth of this daemon now, but there is a long way to go until real changes are made in the way we treat addiction. 

If there is one thing that Jeff always knew, it was that music speaks to people. I know he would be so happy if even one person was affected by something he wrote. Whether it was to better understand or to help someone not feel so alone. People do not realize how much it might mean to someone to read something so true to what they are dealing with, showing them they are not in this by themselves. This gives them something to live for and for some that is all they need.  ~Tara

 Here is a link to the tribute to Tara wrote for Jeff written shortly after he died.

Disease or not, he always said if it was any other health issue he would be treated with respect.

About Lance Fiske 

Lance, a 2005 graduate of Brockton High School, loved playing baseball and basketball in high school. He attended the former Sacred Heart School and East Junior High School. To read more about Lance please check out the links below.

Link to Brockton Funeral Director Embalms Son After Fatal Heroin Overdose

Link to Lance’s Obituary

—————————–

If you think the Opioid/Opiate Epidemic hasn’t affected you, think again.

Anyone who is stupid enough to put a needle in their vein deserves what they get is a sentiment we are reading/hearing all too often lately. Many people think addiction is not their problem if it hasn’t touched their families or loved ones. Whether you realize it or not, we are all caught in the ripple of this epidemic – so it is your problem.

A few examples:

• Obviously it is touching the lives of anyone who has a loved one with Substance Use Disorder. This equates to time lost at work, or certainly distracted employees.  If the person is in active addiction and is employed, you can bet they are not working to capacity.
• Our court system is jammed with people suffering SUD. The dollars cost on policing, jailing, probation oversight, court costs…………the list could go on…. is enourmous.
• Child Protective Services cannot keep up with the amount of children in the system due to this epidemic. These children are growing up in chaos.
• Police, firefighters, paramedics, and hospitals are all overwhelmed with overdoses and other health issues related to constant drug use.
• Unscrupulous treatment facilities are falsifying claims and overcharging insurance companies ($1500 for a urine test?!?!?) which are paying out for the wrong kind of treatment while those in accredited hospital facilities where the billing is true and accurate cannot get coverage. All of our insurance rates increase.

Our tax dollars are spent putting out the fires caused by this epidemic. We need to put our dollars to use with a multi-pronged and organized response. The ground work has been laid by many who fought for CARA to be passed.

The Winding Path to Heroin Part II: Emily

Editor’s note:   This is the second installment of The Winding Path to Heroin. The first installment can be found at this link: The Winding Path to Heroin: Part I

The recent viral shares on social media with videos and photos of people overdosing  have fueled an onslaught of judgment and ugliness.  The comments accompanying these posts speak to the herculean task we still face trying to educate people about this epidemic. Many post threads devolve into name calling and arguments of  about disease vs choice. I have read recently many posts, some by those in recovery, that we need to stop making those with Substance Use Disorder victims. They have accountability in all of this, and we need to take away the ‘excuse’ that this is a disease as it allows them to remain victims. Yes, we are all accountable for our actions. SUD is not an ‘excuse’, it is a fact. It explains why some people can drink socially and can ‘dabble’ with substances and others become addicted. Beware with the opioids, however, because even those who never had a problem can become physically dependent on these powerful chemicals. As the medical community is taking steps to limit how they use these meds, I hope they begin to put into practice a concrete weaning schedule for those who have been taking opioids regularly for even a few weeks after a surgery.  This is the practice with so many other medications, why not opioids?

Saturday Night Live tried to joke about heroin, but there is nothing funny about this epidemic.

It certainly wasn’t what anyone whose life has been shattered by addiction anticipated seeing when they turned on SNL expecting to have a few laughs. Addiction isn’t even a little funny. People are dying and lives are being destroyed every single day – and there is no humor to be found in any part of this epidemic.

They say ‘you know you’ve made it’ when SNL writes about it, so I guess in one way we should be glad that we have been loud enough about the epidemic to get their attention. This parody was one of their most tasteless to date, but what has made people react so viscerally to it goes to the heart of the matter. Our kids are dying. Heroin use, as SNL pointed out, is on the rise. And yes, mothers, school bus drivers and soccer coaches are not immune to addiction.

Dear Mom, It’s not your fault.

 

Dear Mom,

Breathe. The anxiety is better when you take in deep breaths and hold them. Count in 1-2-3-4, hold 1-2-3-4, out 1-2-3-4.

You didn’t do this. It’s on the corner, in his school, at that party where you first met the parents. It’s an evil little devil, that drug. Doesn’t matter its name. That sneaky chemical masqueraded as temporary escape, tricking your boy into trying something he had no idea would imprison him.

Hold you head up, Mom. You didn’t do this. I saw you bake those cupcakes, cheer him on at his games, go to his parent teacher conferences. I saw you meet parents before he stayed over, heard you talk to him on his cell phone when he was out, saw you checking his messages and even making him clean his room; yes, he should clean his room.

You did it right, Mom, and I salute you. But the fact is, there is someone more addictive than your love, more dangerous than your wrath when he misbehaves, more loving when he’s sad and confused.

The Winding Path to Heroin: Part I

Recently on our Facebook page I asked people to tell me about that day they switched from pills to heroin. I had heard enough stories to know that almost nobody began with heroin, and even when they switch most have zero intention to ever touch a syringe. So what happens. How do they get there?

Often after an article about the drug epidemic is posted online, and more specifically when Narcan is mentioned, there will be the comments of ‘just let them die’, ‘Darwinism at its best’, ’thinning the herd’ ‘they chose this life, so the get what they deserve’.

Every addict is someone’s child, sister, brother, mother, father, loved one. The scathing attitudes and opinions others wield so safely at home on their computer are like gut punches to those in addiction as well as those who love them. They are especially painful to those who have lost a loved one to overdose. More importantly, they perpetuate the stigma that people in addiction don’t deserve compassion or treatment — simply ‘let ’em all die’….. 

Let he without sin cast the first stone:

• Those who never broke any rules in adolescence, who never thought they knew better and didn’t take risks – including (but not limited to): driving too fast, underage drinking, sneaking out of the house, underage sex, binge drinking, smoking pot, taking any drug not prescribed to you, shoplifting, vandalism….
• Those who as adults have never drank to get drunk/buzzed, driven while drunk, driven while stoned, blown through a red light, driven above the speed limit…..

Many of us made poor decisions and broke rules as adolescents, sometimes even into college and beyond.

My question to all of the baby boomers out there. Where would your parent’s prescription pills have fallen on the above list? Pills were being passed around high schools in the past few decades like joints in our day. If you would have smoked a joint in high school or college, would you have tried some Oxy, smoked or snorted it? ‘It’s just the stuff your mom takes for her back pain you know.’

Relief – A Recovery Story

 

I had been addicted to Heroin for a while by the time I wound up in prison. It wasn’t like I planned it, nobody wants to waste a year of their life behind bars. But at the same time, I couldn’t help but feel relief my first night there. It wasn’t the first time I had felt relief this way. The first time I felt this kind of relief was the first time I used heroin, 2 years prior.

 The little girl I had been raising for several years was taken from me by her father. I was left with nothing, feeling broken and confused, helpless. My husband at the time was an addict. Strung out on heroin for years. I had given up hope of him ever quitting and by this time, I knew he was using and chose to ignore it. At least with me, I knew he was safe. Laying in my daughter’s bed crying my eyes out, I knew I would hurt forever. My husband would join in on my sorrow for a while, but eventually he would get up to ‘use’. I saw the way the drug changed him from a grief stricken man to a normal person going about his business. His tears would dry up and in their place came a desire to do normal habits like showering and eating. His transformation was intriguing. As I lay down, still in pain, he could take care of business, and I was still useless.

Being a heroin addict….my brutal truth.

People always ask me what it’s like to be a heroin addict. I guess it’s different for everyone so I wont speak on behalf of the entire addict population but I can sure as hell tell you what being a heroin addict was to me.

Being an addict in itself was me not knowing when to stop and quickly crossing that line of not being able to stop. Whether it was meth, xanax or coke, I did them all addictively. But when I found heroin, I fell in love.

At first, being a heroin addict was exciting.

It was meeting dealers, feelin like a bad ass lil white girl in the worst parts of saint louis. It was snorting lines of dope in the bathroom of Kirkwood just to go back to class high as fuck and know I was getting away with it. It was the rebellious side of me thinking that being a junior in high school and snorting meth and heroin made me tough.

6 months later, being a heroin addict had me on my hands and knees searching my car for chunks of dope that I may or may not have dropped. It was licking little gray pebbles to see if they tasted like dope. It was crushing up anything that could be broken down and snorting it hoping it would stop the withdrawals.

By the end of my senior year, a heroin addict was all I was.

Being a heroin addict was having my dealers give me some dope, warn me that this batch has caused numerous people to OD and me being excited cause that meant it was good.

Being a heroin addict turned into me snorting that line of dope because I had too, not because I wanted too.

Codependence, Anxiety and a Smack on the Head

Codependence, Anxiety…

When you have a loved one in long term recovery things begin to ease up. It’s a slow process, but if you work on letting go and understanding you have no control you inch closer and closer to being able to breathe. One day you realize you fell asleep and woke up without that band of anxiety gripping your chest. When your phone rings and it’s your loved one, panic is no longer your instinctive reaction. The fear stays with you, but you learn to keep it at bay. You remind yourself it’s their life, and that projecting will do you no good. Live for today, be joyful for everything that is good in your life. Amen.

That’s what I would have written a few months ago. But all it took was my mother’s intuition –honed to pinpoint precision through years of codependency – to sound a warning bell and I took ten giant steps backward. My son did not relapse, but he was having a difficult time. I could feel it coming, and the panic, helplessness, terror and anxiety stampeded back into my life and, like puzzle pieces, settled into the familiar spaces in my brain shaped just for them.