by Jaide
November 2, 2003

Heroin to me was and still is what air is to “normal” people. The essence of life. What was needed to stay alive. Many “normal” people, or maybe I should be politically correct and refer to them as non-addicts, can’t even begin to understand how some mood altering substance could hold such power and control over the human brain. But that is the reason they are non-addicts. We addicts often complain about the non-addicts saying, “They’ll never understand,” or, “If only they could feel how I feel, then they’d see.” These adages aren’t fair but we don’t care. It’s almost as if we try to blame non-addicts for our own destructive behaviors. But they’re not at fault, nor is it fair to blame ourselves.

Addiction is a disease, scientifically and medically proven, whether people choose to believe that or not. And as with most diseases addiction can be controlled but never cured. So, with that said I suppose it’s time to turn the tables and share a little about what heroin did to m! e. I don’t really have much of a story to tell because you guys have heard it over and over. The repetitive tale of an addict desperately trying to get better. This is just simply my reflections of time misspent.

I fell in love my first time, but then again, who didn’t? And it’s sad to say but as my addiction progressed I loved it better than my boyfriend, my family and the little bit of friends that I still had left. It was magical. It turned any amount of pain I had into feelings of intense euphoria. And without its healing touch my world....my body just wasn’t complete.

Its weird how addiction starts out, isn’t it? ‘At first you find yourself only doing it on Saturdays, you know just to kill time, to make the boredom stop. Then you find that you like it so much, so what the hell, you start doing it on Tuesdays and then it’s over---you’re hooked. You start doing it everyday. Some days it’s because you want to and then other days it’s because you have to.’

When people used to ask me about heroin and what it’s like I would always smile fondly as if remembering a childhood memory. I would say, “Oh, I can remember the first time I ever tried it.” But now that I think about it I can’t. Oh, I can remember how it made me feel. Sick as a dog at first. But after you puke a few times the euphoria seeps in and sends you floating away. You feel as though all your problems, all your worries, all your anger, sadness and guilt is being washed away. You sit there, in an unreal state of bliss, unaware of the things that surround you. ‘And then you close your eyes--oh, but you don’t mean to--they just sort of seem to shut on a whim. An uncontrollable impulse. And once they’re closed ---you’re off.’ It’s like a dream but to you it’s so real that often times you’ll find yourself talking to someone that really isn’t there or reaching for things that aren’t there. It’s all in your opiate clouded head. And though you probably aren’t embarrassed ! at the time I’m sure others are embarrassed for you.

So, yeah, I remember how heroin made me feel my first time but I can’t even remember where I was or what I was doing or who I was with. I guess I was with my boyfriend. I always was. But that’s what heroin does. It seems to eat away and erode your memory after chronic use.

I was sixteen when I first tried it and I was still sixteen when I became addicted. It was the missing puzzle piece to my life. It completed me. It wasn’t opiates in general. No, not at all. An OC to me was nothing compared to the big H. Heroin made me feel alive so it always shocked me when my mom would tell me how awful I looked or how skinny I was becoming. And the absolute worst was when she would try to get me to eat. I’d be locked up in my room with cups of water and spoons and needles laying all around and she’d yell, “Dinner’s done.” And she practically forced me to eat even though moments later I’d rush to the bathroom, lock the door and turn the faucet on so that the running water would drown out the noise of me puking everything I’d just eaten.

As with any other drug, heroin altered my perception. When I looked in the mirror I thought I looked fine. I didn’t see the weariness in my face, the tired and sunken lifeless eyes that used to hold such sparkle. I was becoming a zombie day by painful day. I never wanted to stop, though. Even when I’d spent every penny I had I still wanted more and more. I knew I was addicted. I never pretended to be in denial. How could you deny something like addiction anyway? When you have to have a substance everyday to survive, that my friend, is addiction. It’s not called “experimenting”. It’s not called “I’m bored” and it’s certainly not called “Well, I could stop if I wanted to”.

This sad thing throughout all of this was that my mother stood by me throughout it all and never once did I thank her. She was there to give me the money when I would lie and say I was going to the movies, going bowling, going clubbing---whatever excuse involved money so I could go buy a bag. She was there to post my five thousand dollar bail when I was arrested for possession/trafficking heroin and pharmaceutical pills. And the worst of all she was there with me during my withdrawals. She would stay up with me night after endless night and rub my legs while I cried. My legs and my stomach were what always hurt the most during withdrawals. I got to where I seriously, desperately wished someone would amputate my legs off. And she was there throughout it all and never once complained. She was so understanding that it absolutely blew me away.

The thing that bothers me the most about heroin, well I guess about any drug is how it can make you do anything. Things you had never dreamed of doing in order to feel better. Like sticking a needle in your arm. I don’t like shots. Hell, does anyone. But, I loved sticking myself with a needle as long as it had dope in it. Just cooking the heroin up in the spoon and drawing it up through the syringe was enough to make me feel a thousand times better. Anybody suffering from opiate withdrawal no matter how afraid of needles would get some kind of relief and gratitude in shooting up. And that’s what I mean about how drugs can make you do anything. Not even to get high, just to feel “normal”.

Well, that’s it. Well, of course that’s not it. But that’s all I feel like reflecting upon. I’ve done the recovery thing many times. Gone through rehabs, the methadone clinic and just recently a detox and I feel like this time, just maybe I might make it. I want to make it. After all I’m only 19. I have a whole life ahead of me.

You guys have heard it all before. I’m not much different from yourself. You guys have basically experienced the same thing and we’re all now hopefully kicking the same thing. I think that addicts have one of the best relationships around. There’s that mutual bond the instant you meet. It’s like, “Yeah, I know exactly how you feel.” And it’s true. They tell you to surround yourself with positive people while you’re in recovery and to kick the negative people out. The positive people in my life are my mom, my friends and you guys---all my fellow addicts out there who know exactly how I felt then and how I’m feeling today. There’s no word or feeling to describe it. It’s just an instant connection from one addict to another.