It Thrives on Secrets

If I were to describe myself I'd say I'm normal. I had a normal family. I have a younger sister. My parents both work. We live in a nice house in a nice neighborhood. We went on vacations and celebrated holidays. I graduated from high school. I'm not somebody you would look at and say, “He's an addict.” But I'm 19 years old and I'm a recovering addict.

I started smoking cigarettes in Grade 8. I did it to look cool. People say marijuana is an entry-level drug. I think cigarettes are. I don't know many drug users who don't smoke. It's that first big rule your parents have that you break. I first smoked pot at a graduation stag party. I was 16. I was standing around with some older guys. When it was offered I smoked it. It wasn't a big deal. I first used cocaine at a party after graduation in July. It was just a regular party with high school kids. A friend asked me to go for a drive with him. After we left, he wanted to do lines of coke. I was scared but I didn't want to seem weird. I felt pressured but I wanted to be cool. I knew the moment I did it I needed more. It wasn't like anything I ever felt before.

As soon as I was coming down I went and asked him for more. As soon as that happens you are in the game. You figure out who all the other players are and you know these people. You went to school with them. You are comfortable doing it. You buy it with them and you share it. It's not a lot of money at first. I was working.

After awhile I was using it about 2 times a week. There was a house in town you could go to and do it. It wasn't long before I was using it everyday. I started stealing money from my parents. It was small amounts at first. It was easy to take money from them without getting caught. They trusted me. You earn people's trust for years — drugs take it away quickly. My parents started noticing and they'd take their bankcards to work. They confronted me. I admitted using cocaine once. They wanted to believe that it was just once so badly.

I first smoked crack with a guy who was the middleman for us, buying cocaine. I couldn't go directly to the dealer, so me and a friend would go to this guy. He lived in a pretty awful place. His Mom was there; she was an addict too. She smoked heroin. Everyone around there used. This guy would go get us the coke and then we'd give him some. Crack was a real intense high. I started out holding back some of the coke to snort and only having a bit made into crack. Soon, though, I just wanted to smoke crack. All the money I had was going to crack. I stole stuff to pawn to get it. I didn't have money left for food, for anything.

My life was so far from what I grew up with. The places I went were beyond what my family could believe. Sometimes I'd smoke so much it would screw up my breathing. When I came down I'd think "what am I doing?" but I couldn't stop. I didn't care about anything else. I was using about $1000 to $2000 a week at the worst. Once I saw a woman trade her car, her TV and her dog for crack. You will do anything to get it.

My family did an intervention that forced me into treatment. It was the worst day ever. They told other family members and friends about my secret. I was real angry. Everyone was there, telling me I needed help. I didn't want to go. Finally they wore me down. I was tired and I just said I'd go. I had to go to detox first. You see some awful things there. One woman was shaking and such a mess. I was sure she was withdrawing from heroin. She was withdrawing from alcohol. The same things all my friends drink.

The very first day of detox, I started feeling my body getting better. I was there for 5 days. When I got out I couldn't go home. I couldn't go back to my community. I had to wait a month to go to treatment. My mom and dad took turns leaving their jobs and staying in the city at friends with me. I was real hard on my mom. I regret that.

Treatment was scary. It was hard to say goodbye to my parents. You see other people there and you have these preconceived ideas about them. They look bad, skinny and worn out. Then you realize you look like that too, and your story is so similar to theirs. I learned in treatment how drugs change your brain. I learned how I can control my cravings. When I was doing drugs only the drug mattered. I had no clue about the rest of the world. I learned about AA (Alcoholics Anonymous) and NA (Narcotics Anonymous) and how huge they are as organizations. There is so much support.

When I came home I thought I knew everything. I should have stayed in aftercare. Treatment is like this safe bubble; returning to the community was harsh.

Now I see my friends doing it. When I try to tell them not to, they tell me to mind my own business. My dad took a program at treatment. He understands things now. I'm getting through life. Parents whose kids drink say at least my kid's not on crack. People look at me and think, "That couldn't happen to me." It could happen to them; it just takes saying yes once.

I regret taking my family through it. I regret my sister watching and thinking I'm cool. There's nothing cool about it. It's for losers and it thrives on secrets.