Relieve the pain and shame.

Share your experience so that others may learn from it.  

Submit your story, long or short, just so it's from the heart and let it flow. You'll be amazed by how soothing it becomes as you allow your words to flow and your mind to clear.  Just knowing that you're not alone can bring comfort.  letters@ahdad.org

Please indicate whether you prefer to keep your e-mail address private or have it published with your letter.

There are many waiting to hear from you.  Thanks  letters@ahdad.org

 

In their own words...

I lost my only son- Anthony to a heroin overdose on Feb 6th 2005. I last saw him at Thanksgiving time last year. I was I thought very close to him but obviously not close enough.  He had shared with me his addiction but when he came home (he lived in a different state ) he told me he was clean and was never going back. I believed him. He was my best friend as well as my son and I wanted to believe he could stop this drug anytime he wanted. All his friends knew what was going on and his work associates knew but NO ONE told me- his mom- his best friend?? He was 23 years old when he died. Alone in a friends apartment... after partying for 2 days from what I have put together... when I got the phone call that he was gone I knew in my heart it was the heroin and that he hadnt stopped using... He is at peace now and is happy but I am the one who is lost without him and miss him terribly. I wanted nothing more than for him to be happy and be drug free but the demons inside him were just too much. I don't understand the lying at all. I told him time and time again he could come home and we would get him help. He kept telling me he was clean...... I know now he couldn't face this thing himself and he didn't want me to know how bad off he was. Funny thing, he looked GREAT when he came home to visit. That's the lie... you can look good and be using and addicted and no one suspects... At least those who haven't seen you messed up... What a waste of a great life and a wonderful person.. I love you Anthony and you will always be alive in my heart... I now see kids on the street and I cry cos I know they are addicts and they wont go home to get help... There is help out there for anyone who sees this .... ask your mom or someone you know loves you- they will help- I would have............

**********

I have a 20 year old son who has been addicted to heroin for 3 years. We have tried for 3 years to get him help. He went into a couple of rehab centers and always left before he finished. he would say to me I can do it trust me I can quit, well i believed him, How stupid? Well this past January my son robbed my neighbor and got arrested. It broke my heart to see him handcuffed, It breaks your heart because no matter what you try nothing works. You feel so crazy, because it is out of your control. Anyway my son spent two months in jail going back and forth seeing him in handcuffs killed me. Well the judge put him in a place for troubled kids. No drug rehab and these kids could walk out anytime they want. So, my son did. I did not no where my son was for 1 week I have never cried so much as I have in the last 3 years. Well now we are waiting for a warrant because my son walked out of the place. I think drug addicted people should be locked up in a drug rehab place not a prison. My son is facing 3 years for robbing my neighbor, they also found 15 needles in a box when they searched his room. Why would a judge give him jail time and not rehab. I need help mentally and physically. I do not know how I get up and go to work everyday. Thanks from a desperate mom

**********

I have been searching for a support group of any kind to talk to. The night before Halloween, my brother, who I later found out has been a heroin addict for some time, took crack for the first time, took a drink for the first time in nine years (he is a recovering alcoholic) and, with the intent to rob people for more money for drugs, fired a gun, killed one man and took one hostage. He is now in jail awaiting whatever happens next. He has three kids, ages 11, 6 and 4 whose lives are now changed forever. Our family is devastated and don't know what to do. I am just trying to find out more about heroin addicts and what goes through their minds when they first push that needle into their arms for the first time. I do not understand. My brother sounds so much like a lot of the people written about on this website, i.e. starting abusing alcohol in teens, started getting hooked on prescription drugs and so on. The pain he has caused is still so new. I am hoping that something good can come out of this. The only thing that has kept all of us going is that we have faith that God will take care of him and us and the family of the person he murdered. Thank you for this website.

**********

It's been four years since my brother died. Not sure why I feel compelled to tell his story - it won't help him any. Hopefully it'll help me a little though. Chris had smoked pot since he was 13 - he developed a drinking problem by his mid teens. He spent as much time is rehab as most 'normal' kids do in school. That's what he did though - pot and beer. It most certainly was not who he was. My brother was the kindest most giving person - he would pass a stranger on the street and give them the coat of his back if they needed it. He could also be the fiercest person you'd ever meet to - especially if you hurt anyone he loved. He loved a lot of people too - maybe he should've loved himself a little more.
Anyway, roughly 8/9 years ago, my brother seriously injured his spine. Two surgeries later and a year in rehabilitation - the Dr's answer was dilotins, morphine, adavan, and anything else to make the 'problem' go away. Except the problem grew from being a spine injury to being a life killer. You see after three years of handing out prescriptions like candy, they one day decided to cut him off of everything - cold turkey. There was no room at the local detox center so he decided to go it alone. He had every reason behind him - a beautiful little girl, a wife who worried constantly and a mother that thought the sun shone and set on him. Unfortunately the sweats, and the nausea, and just the basic itch were too much. "Luckily" for Chris an old family "friend" moved to town shortly after that. A recovering heroin addict himself - hell he even left for his hometown for a few days so he wouldn't miss his 2 year sobriety party! If anyone should've known better it should have been him. Chris didn't know better though - we thought he did - but he didn't.
I remember in January 2000 - my brother was giving me a ride home and he said that this year - this special millenium - was going to be his best year yet. He was going to get his shit together - maybe even move away. But that he missed me and wished we'd spend more time together. All the while in the back of my head I'm thinking - "yeah right junkie - heard that before!" I was very hard and unforgiving towards Chris the last six months of his life. Whoever says that tough love works hasn't had to live with survivor's guilt. I have for four years and 2 months now. Some days it's easier and then other days - when you hear about how his friends are still using - it kills me.
Christopher James died on June 15, 2000 - 10 days before his birthday. He would've been 31 this past summer. The last time I saw my brother alive I called him every name in the book and told him to get out of my sight. The day before he died he called me - and I told him to fuck off and die and never phone me again - and what do you know? He never ever did...
The next day, the so called family friend, gave my brother an extra generous flap of heroin and coke - helped him fix it and sent him on his way. I'll never know if he thought of stopping by my house that day - what matters though is he didn't. He wanted to get home and rest up before his little girl got home from school. Didn't make it though - 10 minutes away from his house he either passed out or OD'd - never really found out - crossed the center line and drove into and then under a 2 trailer gravel truck. Three hours later the police were at my house and I had to go collect my niece from school.
I don't know who to blame - the professional's that we are brought up to trust and rely on? Or the family friend that was making money for his new truck? Or do we blame or selves for not being there and not loving or doing enough? I don't think it's an answer I'll ever find.
I admit I feel a little silly sending this is - only maybe another 'little' sister will feel better for knowing she's not alone. Not sure if I believe in higher powers or not - religion certainly didn't help Chris - but if there is an all loving all forgiving God - he'll let me meet my brother again so I can tell him how much I still love him and miss him and think of him every day. Four years later and I still have to stop myself from phoning him. For all you users out there - someone somewhere loves you and very much wants you well and in their lives. IF ANYONE SAYS ANY DIFFERENT - JUST REMEMBER - IT ISN'T YOU THAT THEY HATE - IT'S WHAT YOU ARE DOING TO YOURSELF.
In loving and everlasting memory of Christopher James Dobson - June 15, 2000 - Remembered by anyone who ever met him.

**********

This is about our daughter Carly. She was an innocent, beautiful 13yr old girl when she met the 22yr old man who introduced her to heroin. From that day on I have been fighting a losing battle with a drug that I am beginning to realize is more powerful than a mother's love. Carly has been struggling too. She has had brief periods when she has been clean and some time on methadone but for the most part she has been using heroin. Right now she is sometimes on the street and sometimes in sleazy motels, selling her body for the drug. I haven't seen her in a long time now and her health is not good. She has Hep C and her teeth are bad due to poor nutrition. I want to help her so bad but nothing I have done has made a difference. I would not wish this on my worst enemy. I hate drug dealers with a passion. They are evil people who profit from the misery of the addicts and their families. Thank you for letting me express my thoughts and feelings.
Christine M

**********

A CHANCE OF A LIFETIME.   I am a 43-year old single black mother of two with an Associates Degree in Respiratory Therapy. At the time, I wrote my story I was in St. Louis County jail headed to Vandler Penitentiary. It was after I left Los Angeles, that my life hit a bad spot. Two of my brothers died, my best friend became saved and got married. The lost I felt opened old wounds, hurt, betrayal and shame. I felt unloved and unlovable. My mother tried to turn me toward Christ; I did not feel good enough for God. I felt lonely and desperate to belong. I started hanging out with the wrong people, although at the time they seemed right to me. Most of them had good educations and they had good jobs, but they used crack. In the beginning, they asked me to carry drugs. I knew the money would be good so I did. Before long I was using. I thought everyone else was responsible for what was wrong in my life. I felt as though the world had dealt me a bad hand and drugs made me forget. My mother was slowly dying inside watching me ruin my life, I did realize I could not do a good job caring for my children and I left them in her care. The mighty rock now took first preference in my life. I drifted in and out of rehabs and at one time, I tried to comment suicide. When I got out of rehab, I would take up with my old crew again. They gave me my props for my skills, one being a good booster. I was smart enough that authorities could never pin me with drug charges, but they did arrest me for driving with suspended license, my stay in jail was real short I got out went right back to the same lifestyle. I was arrested again December 18 1998. I was not arrested I was rescued, facing a sentence which carried up to seven years. All my yet were becoming reality, doing any and everything to keep my active addiction alive. When my money ran out and when I was too paranoid to boost, I stole from my love ones. I even broke into my own house. At this point, my addiction took off, I did any and everything to get my drug. Crack cocaine could have sentenced me to death, instead I went to jail where I got a chance of a lifetime, and I had to choose life! In there a woman has no say-so what so ever over anything; eating, sleeping, even talking. At first, I felt as though I would not be able to take it. "Women were losing their minds, I felt as though that could have been me" I have met women who were young, old, beautiful and full of talent that knew no other lifestyle, but to rob, steal, and kill. Realizing just how precious life was I chose God. Telling my story to others is my way of giving back. Today I realize we all have painful stories to tell. I have learned that our most painful experiences offer us opportunities to grow. I am so grateful that with the love and support of my family, my sponsor, I decided to accept "A Chance Of A Lifetime" an addict such as myself by the grace of God, chose to turn my will and my way over to a power greater than myself and crack cocaine by becoming honest, open mined and willing to go any length for my recovery and to succeed as so many have before me. I now have liver disease, I only have the function of my right kidney and my eyes are slowly going bad. However, today I choose "A Chance of a Lifetime", one day at a time. It has not been easy, but it is simple. I am now living in St. Louis by the grace of God the quality of my recovery is now very strong and important me. Life is now real, very good to me. My blessing is ever lasting. By the grace of God and one day at a time, the program of Narcotics Anonymous my life was saved. I want to keep what has been so freely given to me, so I share my story wherever and however I am asked. The spirit of this fellowship is in me today. I have come to know unconditional love. If I can do it, so can you. I will forever practice the three main principles of NA, Honesty, Open-minded, and Willingness. BY DESIREE G. St. Louis, MO

**********

Walt, thanks for being there for us and our kids. I lost my only child from a heroin/cocaine overdose on 1/3/03. Or should I say, that is when they found his body. He supposedly died the night of 1/l/03 and laid in a cold apt with his body decaying. My mother, 80 years old found him when he did not call her the day before. This is definitely not something a grandmother should find.
Michael started smoking pot out of high school. He was a good kid and student. Never got into any trouble UNTIL he found pot. What lead him to try it, I will never know.
As the years went by and Michael became more irresponsible, my mother always bailed him out of everything. I wish he would have gotten in trouble with the police then maybe he would have gotten scared or admitted his problem. He could not hold a job and since my mother did not want to see him homeless, she paid his rent. I would not allow him to live with me because years prior, he did live with me and stole from me. He knew he had to leave at that point. Drugs are a virus that spread and get worse as the addiction progresses. My mother was diagnosed with terminal cancer in January of 02 and I think that is when he felt that his life was over. He had nothing to do with me because it was the time when he was blaming me for everything. My mother supplied him with enough money to keep his habit active and running wild. They both are gone now and hopefully in the hands of God. I will tell you I practiced tough love and I paid the price. He wanted nothing to do with me. If I knew that he was doing heroin I would have gone back home and had him put in jail until I could at least talk to him straight. I miss my only child and I miss my mother. Even having said that, I would still practice even tougher love. We cannot allow this demon to continue to kill our kids.

**********

My name is, well lets say, Jenny. I come from an upper white middle class neighborhood, Went to Catholic schools. Never got in any real trouble. Was popular. Had boyfriends. Was always the life of the party. Then my parents got divorced & my mom moved outta state & my dad was not around. I started to have trouble sleeping and started to abuse sleeping pills. Now I was a person that never liked to smoke pot or drink & tried cocaine & didn't like that either. I didn't like to feel out of control. So when my best friend told me to try something called nubain I agreed. Because after all she was just like me, she didn't like to drink or smoke pot or anything like that either. So I started injecting nubain. First in my butt then intraveinously because you could use less of the drug that way & for $75 a bottle I wanted to conserve as much as I could. So once you shoot up something you'll shoot up anything. And after that got to be too expensive a "friend", or so I thought, told me about heroin. And with that being only $10 a bag & it would keep me messed up for 2 days at a time. It seemed like the better cheaper thing to do. But 1 bag a day turned into 3 then 4 then 10 then 15. Until it was way out of control. I probably wouldn't of stopped if my boss at work didn't secretly go in my purse & found it. So I flew to Arizona where my mom lived & went into a detox for 1 week but signed myself out after 4 days. Then went back home & stayed clean for awhile. Then one day me & my friend got lost & ended up right around the spot that we used to buy from & decided to pick some up. Just 1 bag tho- I could handle it. And that night I overdosed. I now have permanent kidney damage & had to be on dialsys. I was in a coma for a month. I had to learn how to walk again & had no use of my legs. And no short term memory what so ever. I was only 24 years old! It took me over a year to recooperate. And then 3 years later I used again & would you believe this----- I overdosed again too!!!!!! Luckily this time it wasn't as bad. I want to use again right now. To me that is the best feeling in the world. My family doesn't trust me- the 2nd time I o.d.'d I was watching my cousins 1 year old daughter! I mean what the fuck is the matter with me? I have a craving to use everyday. I don't know when this will go away. And all this started because I had trouble sleeping. Now I'm on prescription pills from a doctor & still can't sleep. I don't know when the cravings will end.

**********

My dearest Tommy passed away on December 4, 2003 due to a heroin overdose. He returned to Chicago on November 24 from his winter vacation, he was dead 10 days later. I never imagined that the day I took him to the airport would be the last time I would ever see him again. I got the news on the day I was to leave to be with him.    Not only did I loose my boyfriend, I lost my best friend. I never really knew how sick he was, he hid it very well, like most addicts do. We had been friends for almost 12 before we began dating. I cannot begin to describe the effect of his death has had on me. I cry practically every day over it and over the deadly choice he made tragic night.  May you finally be at peace. You are now free from your demons, though you had to pay the ultimate price YOUR LIFE. I am sorry that I wasn't there for you  sooner, maybe had I been, you might still be here today. Goodbye my love.

**********

My daughter, now 16, started using drugs at the age of 14. First it was pills and then graduated into IV drug use. I did not know until she was 15. I was in her bedroom and found a bag with used needles and wrappers. We then started the long process of trying to help her. The problem was that she did not want help. We chose to take the tough love approach and give her her options. She could go into rehab or go into a group home with children's aid. She chose rehab. She went into detox last January for 3 weeks and then to a 28 day rehab in February. She finished that program and started using as soon as she came home.
We then scrambled to find her another rehab. In the meantime, she went to stay with her Aunt in another city and attended meeting 4 times a week. We then got her into another 28 day program in April. She finished this program the day before her 16th birthday. On her 16th birthday she went to live on the streets and to travel. She was on the streets for 6 months and again using.
A month ago she called and said that she wanted help and this time it was her choice. We allowed her to come home on the condition that she attend a longer residential program. Again, she went to detox and is now in a 4 month program.
Through her drug use, she has lost most of her hair and has developed some serious physical problems that will always be with her. The doctors said that if she continued to use that she would probably not see her 17th birthday.
I am terrified about what will happen when she completes this program. There are not alot of resources for addicts her age in Canada due to an overworked health care system.
We have learned to try to live with this emotionally, even though at times it has taken a great toll on our home life. We are trying to live our lives and not let this control our every thought and move on a daily basis. But it is always there in the back of your mind. I hope that this program will give her the tools she requires to be strong enough to abstain from using. But, you never know what the future will hold.  Thanks for listening

**********

Walt is sooo correct. Heroin addicts come from all walks of life. We are not all from bad family, bad neighborhoods, addict parents etc. This can happen to anyone, and it's the young kids I feel the worse for. I am a daughter, sister, and mother. I must say I lived the charmed life. I am educated. I had loving parents. My dad a policeman. Mom was the ultimate stay at home mom that all my friends came to with their problems. My siblings are all professionals, and have never done a drug in their lives. I was Captain of the Cheerleaders. Pretty, popular, and "smart". I married my High School sweetheart in my mid-twenties after many years of happily dating fine young men. After my divorce I set to raising my child with the help of my family. Yes, her life became charmed also. A princess didn't have it any better. I went back to school, and it was here I met a guy. He was open, and honest. He was a recovering addict. Clean seven years. Crack was his drug. I had been taking pain meds for some time for a female problem which later ended with Hysterectomy. Not to get ahead of myself, but I couldn't NOT use the day of my surgery. Anyway...I was thirty-six, and in pain. I had long run out of meds when my gentlemen friend said "Hey try dope". Mind you he wasn't doing it. Hmmmm...looked good in Trainspotting. Just like the Perc's only in a bag. Well that was it. One bag, and I was in love. I started bugging him every day. Of course he complied. He now admits he wanted me happy so he could enjoy me. Next thing is he's doing it, and we're on a roll. Living in Philly it was sooo easy at the time. I wouldn't even leave the El platform while he went to cop. I was afraid of the very streets my dad patrolled. Yeah...that didn't last long. One day he was so sick, and proclaimed he was quitting. My Lilly white butt was on a corner in North Philly within a half hour. Mind you I had no Street Smarts at all. The fighting started. Typical. You scored without me, and you go..no you go. We split up, and I was now heavy into my addiction. I stole from my family. Pawned my Jewelry, and that of my mom's, and child's. I roamed alley's in the dark. Like others have said. I'd have sold my mom or kid if I had to just to get my shit. I never used a needle. The only reason being I KNEW there'd be no turning back EVER!!!!! I loved that dope so much, and had been told that the needle was a whole new realm of love. Like others I went in houses alone that you don't even see in the movies. You meet people from all walks of life when you wait to cop, but sadly at that point everyone has one thing on their mind....scoring dope. Guns to the head...robbery....none of it stops you. I only went to Rehab once, and haven't touched dope since. I don't intend to. The saddest part of all is I am trying to get myself back, and know I never will 100%. I hurt too many people. Shamed myself. Walt is so right. The dealer makes you wait. The dealer treats you like shit. You bought the Lexus he drives. Your kid's piggy bank money went towards those expensive clothes he wears. Your misery means nothing to them. Thanks for listening. A NOTE TO PARENT'S>>> NEVER GIVE UP ON YOUR KIDS. THEY NEED YOU. Educate yourself. The telephone is your worse enemy. Know who they call. Monitor the calls. They can get high without leaving the house. Check circulars, and newspapers out your door. Look under your mat. NEVER give them money. Saving change from a grocery run or two can have you high tomorrow. It sounds tough, but even my dad who was a cop for many, many years didn't know just how sneaky, and corrupt I would get. Go to meetings with them. Some NA or AA meetings is where you meet another poor soul just waiting to get high. Believe me it's instant chemistry! The home drug kit is excellent. My family didn't need it...they knew I was high if I was extra nice, and my eyes changed colors. Love them. They'll hate you, but it may save their life.

**********

You've taken the advice my grandmother gave me years ago and have applied it well. "Take whatever bad comes your way and try to turn it into something good".
I am trying each day to avoid what you had to deal with.  My 24 year old first born son, sibling of 6 is a heroin addict. While his real problems began with issues of anger and frustration he felt at home from the verbal abuse his father gave me; his very real problem, now, is trying to stay away from the addiction that has his mind, body and soul.   A year ago he went into a rehab facility not far from home for about 3 weeks, not nearly enough time.  His going there was on the heels of his girlfriend being arrested for selling to support their own habit.  They'd already made several trips to Philadelphia, Pa. to acquire the drugs cheaper when one of many drug busts went down and she with it.  She was given 7 years probation, and her parents made arrangements for her to be admitted to a rehab facility far from home for about a month.   Approximately a month and a half later they went to visit friends ( Yes, they were far from strong enough to do this Elbe they thought they were) Supposedly their so called 'friends' were snorting Oxy right in front of them.  They left immediately but by then the 'triggers' of desire were still too strong and fresh for them to resist.   Back they both went into using and continued to use until the weekend of Mothers' Day this year.  My husband and I brought them both back to our home, (I'm guessing many will perceive this as enabling the girlfriend to avoid jail time) They both seem to really want to kick this thing.  We have, against the feelings of many other family members, offered our love, our understanding, our help in getting them to find value in themselves to begin the precarious walk of recovery.  During their course of stay I personally bought and did a home urine test and sent it away for study.  I just got off the phone with the lab and they've both tested positive for morphine usage.   They've been attending AAA meetings with other recovering addicts and I'd hoped that this would help them as well.  It's my belief that none of us can help another unless they truly want to beat the addiction they have.  Sadly this doesn't seem to apply to heroine use.  When the test came up preliminary positive for opiates I sent them to the lab for further study the same day.  Last evening my husband and I attended a meeting/lecture on Family Dynamics of Addiction.  These meetings/lectures are in their infancy despite the widespread usage of heroine in our area.  The sad thing about last evenings meeting was that we were the only actual parents there!   All 5 other people were either the counselor, his super, a rep from the media, and two other people already involved with the formation of the meetings.  Our jails are filled to the brim with users and far too many dealers.  The State Attorney General's office uses the addicts as informants to try to nail the dealers.  That's no help to the addict himself and certainly sends a nasty message to him as well.  Years ago when my son first began his problems with muscle relaxants his 'friends' dropped him off at our back door where I found him passed out. I called 911, took him to the hospital where I found a small white bag of some unknown substance in his coat pocket.  I turned it over to the authorities and requested that they analyze it and let me know what I was dealing with.  I was told to call the next day for the information.  I did, and guess what? There was no evidence that a bag had been turned in at all!!  Our state recently denied 7 million dollars to the Drug rehab Facilities in the area because their programs aren't working.  What these officials don't understand is the full ramifications of what heroine actually does.  THEY DON'T UNDERSTAND.  There is far too much kick back to their own pockets to care enough to make real changes necessary in the treatment of addicts and convictions of the dealers themselves who sell for profit with little or no regard to the user and it's lifelong affects.  To say that knowledge is power is true.  So in creating your site, as you have, it allows parents like myself who are dealing with all sorts of frustrations, to have an area to visit, to vent, and to, hopefully, help another parent.  I plan to stay with helping my son by helping him to see his own value, his own worth and turn this evil thing into something better not just for those around him but more importantly for himself.  As I've tried to help him see.....God made him and God doesn't make mistakes.  I'm admittedly somewhat inept at being able to decide what is the real truth with them and what is their perception of the truth.  Very tough call for any parent. Good luck to all of you who have this insidious evil as an unwanted guest in your lives.  Stay strong, keep on loving that son or daughter or whomever.  Thank you for your patience in taking the time to read this.

**********

I would like to start this letter by saying how sorry I am for the loss of your son.  I came across your website while trying to learn more about heroin addiction.  I wrote this letter to get some of the grief in my heart out.  My mother had three children.  My half brother, myself, and my little sister.  My mother committed suicide when I was 5 and my brother went to live with my aunt and uncle.  Then they moved to Australia and I only saw my brother one more time.  I always thought about him and wished that I could see him and talk to him.  I don't know why we didn't keep in touch.  He had a lot of problems emotionally and those problems really affected his home life.  I found out about 3 years ago that he was a heroin addict.  I say "was" because last week my brother died.  He was only 30 years old.  The same age my mother was when she died.  I can't tell you how much this hurts my heart.  I wanted to see him again and talk to him and tell him that I loved him.  I wanted to try to help him. He has 2 little girls that he never really got to be around because of his addiction.  I don't care if I never really knew him. I still love him.  There is blood between us and I still can't believe he's dead.  I feel like it's not fair that I didn't get the chance to know him.  I wish there was no such thing as addiction.   I will always dream of my brother and I hope that he is at peace.  I hope that I can sort out my feelings and come to an understanding about how unfair this feels.  Thank you for letting me share this story. 

**********

A is in her late 30s and is a member of the church I go to, and is also a teacher.  I liked A from the first time I met her - she was very approachable and willing to help me with my church choir, and it was quite refreshing to see someone a bit 'unusual' as an Officer.  She was not the stereotypical church-goer I would have expected. I suppose you could call her image 'gothic', she always seemed to have just had a cigarette and I would bump into her at the football or on a drunken night in town.

Then about a year ago my Mum phoned me up to ask if I knew the person on the front page of the local newspapers.  A had been trying to help a heroin addict while he was in jail, and once out he took her for a drive and ended up robbing a petrol station, getting caught in the process.  The addict was sent back to jail and A was left in tatters - her teaching job hung in the balance and life as she knew it changed.  I wanted to do something but didn't know what, so sent a card with a letter.  She replied, giving me some of the details of her home situation and the neighborhood she'd lived in for 17 years - looking up her street she could see at least four flats belonging to drug dealers and she would often be confronted by addicts at her door, trying to sell the food they'd stolen from the local shop, to fund their habits.

Slowly, things began to return to 'normal' for A.  She was allowed to return to her job and had the full support of the school.  She finished with the junkie that had caused all the trouble for her and she made the courageous move to return to the church and face all the people who'd read about her in the local and national press. Then, three weeks ago, A did a reading at church.  I found it incredibly powerful and for the first time that I can remember, I listened to every word without switching off.  I don't know if it was the clarity of her reading, or the way it sounded as if she had really thought about what she was saying, but it made me sit up and pay attention.  Afterwards, my friend noticed A going straight through the doors to the adjoining part of church, rather than returning to her seat, looking upset, then after the service my friend stayed behind to talk to A as she was still upset.

I wondered if it had been part of her reading: "Thou shalt not steal" that had upset A, and felt I had to tell her how good I thought her reading was, so sent her another homemade card with a note.  The next time I spoke to A, I was shocked.  She started by saying, "Basically, major heroin addiction...".  I sat and wondered who she was speaking about, until I realized she was speaking about herself.  She thanked me for my letter and said it had been such a comfort, as that day she had rushed into church at the last minute, not knowing what she was supposed to be reading, did it without being able to focus on the words and had to grasp hold of the pew with both hands to keep her balance.  Afterwards, she thought she'd made a mess of it, so went through to the back and collapsed on the concrete floor, weeping.  The next five days were spent at the Minister's house as she took the decision to go 'cold turkey', with various people sitting with her.

I didn't get nearly enough time to speak with A then, so wrote her another note (this is all new to me, so I didn't want to be too 'in her face'), this time offering my support.  Then I found her mobile number, so texted to ask if she wanted to meet for a coffee, which we did last week.  Well, coffee turned into two, then a drive, then out for something to eat, then to the pub for a couple of drinks, then back to her parents' house to watch TV and I returned home 8 hours later, my head spinning from everything she'd said.

The root of her problems came from her tearaway 16 year old son, who is using heroin and is a dealer.  She tried to get help from Social Services while she lived with him, but they couldn't help, and getting so low because of this A turned to heroin to help ease the pain of being unable to help her son.  A single Mum, her ex-husband refused to believe how destructive his son was being to A's life and her son knew how to turn on the charm when he wanted to have his own way with his father or with Social Services.  Being surrounded by the drug culture in her neighborhood didn't help.  A talked about the junkies that she had found overdosing in the stair well of her block of flats.  She talked matter-of-factly about the time she was on her way out to church when she found one of the area's most notorious junkies turning blue on her step.  She said she would have probably done the area a favor to leave him, but she checked for a pulse and found one.  It stopped, so she thumped his chest and although he started and stopped breathing again, she saved his life.

I could go on about the stories she told me, but let's go to now.  A is signed off work but is hoping to return after next week.  She has moved back in with her parents and left her son and his destructive lifestyle, while Social Services are finally seeing the real boy now A is not there to sort the flat out.  She has a fantastic 'minder' who is trying to get her motivated and organized, as well as taking her on outings.  And me?  I'm still learning, but am doing my bit, trying to get her to see what it is like to have 'real' friends that aren't immersed in the drug scene and am trying to keep her positive and focused.

I was surfing the internet, trying to find sites on how to help heroin recoverers and found a link to Walt's site.  I was moved by his story and felt the need to write, as A is only at the beginning, but I am trying to help her go up instead of down.  Margaret

**********

I live in a suburb north of Boston.  While growing up (I am 22 now) we heard of heroin being used by famous people, and killing famous people.  By the time we were almost out of High school, heroin was involved in a lot of my friends' lives.   One person is the cause for a lot of my friends heroin use.  Not to mention my other group of friends that were addicted before the others.  I have seen what heroin did to my friends, and how unattractive it made people look.  But I was never angry with them for doing it, I accepted it.  I was pressured into doing it one day.   I mean I was into drugs but not that.  And I swore that I wouldn't like it.   I think I am one of the very few who did it once, didn't like it, and never did it again. 

Because I accepted my friends use of the drug, I became friends with junkies, and saw what they went through.  I went to meth clinics and everything.  I still didn't hate heroin, i accepted it, because I heard it was very hard to stop, and I also didn't think anyone of my bestfriends were addicted.  When one of my bestfriends died in a car accident, a lot of my friends turned to heroin to avoid grief, I was no different, I turned to cocaine and ectasy.  I realized my issue with cocaine and stopped using.  My friends didn't stop using heroin.  I got used to my friends not working, sleeping, being anti social, and sick.  Then one day I got mad. I called my bestfriend to see what she was doing, and she told me she had something to tell me.(I was actually with heroin users at the time)She said "Bryan died last night, I am so sorry." 

Bryan was my first real boyfriend, my first love, my first everything.  Him and I had been broken up for quite sometime, but we still talked a lot and hung out a lot, I was with him the weekend before.  Before that day I could have told you that I knew almost everything about him, but when hearing that he died of a heroin OD, I can say I guess I didn't know everything.

The DEA came to my house to question me, they questioned a lot of us.  The person who sold it to him was a friend of his.  So because of this it was easy to find out a lot of things.  I believe his friend will be serving jail time.  There are a lot of people also serving a lot of jail time because of this. I don't think the sadness that I feel will ever go away.  I think it will diminish with time, but when you hear a song on the radio, see a picture, or hear of someone using, it just brings back the sadness.  

One good thing that I can say from being a spectator is watching one of my best friends get clean.  She has been clean for about 4 months, and is back in school.  Not having to worry about getting the phone call that she is dead is the best feeling in the world.  I can honestly say, that watching a person dealing with this addiction, is as bad as being addicted.  I felt like a broken record.  I was giving her the same speech everytime, and being mad for the same reasons all the time.  One thing I have learned is that heroin can be beat, but the trick to getting an addict clean is to let them realize that they have to be clean for themselves.  Everything is meant to be.   My friend was in and out of detox for almost a year, trying to get clean for her friends and family, and it never worked.  It worked when she was quitting for herself.  ~Vicky~

**********