Rose S.
I believe I was an addict from birth,
that it is a disease and that it is hereditary.
It can be activated by precipitating factors.
It can be exacerbated by mitigating factors.
I began using when I was 11 years old. Things that precipitated my using included an abusive father, being bullied and molested in daycare, being molested again in the 2nd grade and my parents’ divorce.
I found myself in therapy the first time at age 10 during the divorce. My father had an affair, subsequently had another child and was remarried quickly. I went from being an only child to having 3 siblings overnight.
A 16 year-old girl moved in to my cul-de-sac and we started hanging out. She was a party girl and I followed suit, drinking. I was introduced to all her friends who were much older men, over 18.
Once a friend of hers came over and she set me up with him, billing me as the virgin I was. He attempted sex with me but prematurely ejaculated, stated “I hate virgins” and left me there on my soiled bedspread. I was 12. Soon after that my virginity was taken by force at the hands of another of her friends, who was 24.
Things improved for me by age 14, hitting honor roll. I had a best friend who I spent every possible waking hour with. It was the best year of school I ever had and probably the best year of my life to that point.
On the last day of school her family moved to the other coast and I experienced a tremendous loss, second only to the divorce of my parents. I spent the summer in abject depression.
When I started high school that fall, I found weed. I was off to the races, getting high six times a day, skipping class, a real miscreant.
By age 15 my parents found me out and I had to start going to 12-step meetings. I never was able to stay clean for any length of time. I met a man at a meeting who became my first really serious boyfriend.
The relationship was seriously toxic. I had a pregnancy at age 15 and found other drugs by age 16. He became abusive along the way.
We stole a car together and ran away once, getting detained by the police.
Thankfully, I didn’t catch any charges then.
My use of drugs became more outrageous as a 16 year-old. I was using PCP, going to Anacostia to buy. I tried mushrooms and cocaine, but when I found LSD that was the real down-spiral.
I used it every day for approximately one year. I actually ended up moving out on my own and living with a drug dealer in a party house. My parents became desperate when I was 17 and found a long-term rehab facility for teens to put me in.
I spent a year in Straight, Incorporated, a tear-you-down so we can build you back up place. Unfortunately, it was just institutional child abuse. There were about 300 teens there at any given time.
We were there 12 hours a day, 7 days a week. I was held back a grade because I missed so much school. The place was seriously fucked-up, I could go on, but if you want to know more, just Google it.
When I got out of Straight, I’d been clean a year already. I went back to 12-step meetings and moved in with some people who were in the program(s). I had a serious case of PTSD from a lifetime of various traumas.
I got really involved with N.A. I dated a guy from Straight for a little while and got pregnant. A close confidant of mine convinced me not to have an abortion but to give the child up for adoption.
I found a wonderful couple through the open adoption process and when the baby boy came into the world I handed him over to them. That was so unbelievably painful. I cried for two weeks straight.
But, I never regretted my decision for a second. I felt so empty after the adoption, I jumped at the first opportunity to start a family.
I found a man in N.A. whom I became engaged to immediately (on our first date)! Soon after we became pregnant and my son was on the way.
We moved our wedding up three months so I wouldn’t be showing during the ceremony. My son came into the world with a birth defect, requiring him to have surgery the day after he was born.
The first two weeks of his life were spent in the NICU. He spent a lot of time in the hospital up until he was 14 months old when the last corrective surgery of four was performed. The special needs of my son put a huge strain on my marriage. We split up before my son’s last surgery.
When my marriage broke up, I found a man who was an alcoholic to move in with, and I promptly relapsed after having been clean over four years. It started with booze just as it had when I first began.
The pot soon followed as did my first and second arrests in rapid succession. I served short jail terms. I’m thankful that was my last arrest despite my illegal activities for many years to come.
My alcoholic boyfriend and his alcoholic best friend were my constant companions. We were the three musketeers. I spent five years with them, living in that lifestyle. His best friend became mine, too.
I eventually fell in love with him, but I didn’t ever say a word for fear of impropriety. He became ill in 1995 and died of cirrhosis very quickly. I was crushed. I hadn’t had a heartbreak like that since my best friend moved away many years ago, or my parents divorced before that.
My grief actually propelled me into action. I always wanted to be an EMT, so I joined the Volunteer Fire Department. Being in the department was the death of my relationship. That man ended up dying of cirrhosis, too, some years later.
I was assigned to a duty crew, with a line officer. I fell in love with him immediately. We began a torrid affair which turned into a 13-year relationship, and my second marriage.
I was in love for the second time, only months after the death of my first love. I felt so lucky. We had a very close relationship not only because of our love, but as partners in the department.
He was my partner the entire 12 years I was in the department. I can’t describe the bond that one can experience with those who they experience life-threatening situations with… much less, many!
While I was in the department, I was using, but I thank God every day that I never used on the job and killed someone, or stole drugs. I became a Medic and had access to controlled substances, but I resisted the cravings.
I limited my using to off-duty hours. This was easier since I only had duty once a week. My years as a Medic were the best of my personal and professional life.
I worked in an emergency room concurrently, the second-best job of my life. This period of time, at the height of my professional life and the marriage to my partner, I couldn’t have been more fortunate. My addiction continued on despite my having so much to lose.
I was receiving treatment for my PTSD during this time, and was introduced to medication for psychiatric illnesses. I had an epiphany. This was what I’d needed all along! Did I feel that way about the illicit drugs I used, too? Yes. But, this discovery in particular led to the bitter end for me.
At some point, I was given Xanax and Valium for anxiety. These drugs and others in their class are highly addictive and come with life-threatening withdrawal symptoms. I was eating them like they were candy. I began doctor-shopping for other drugs, narcotics and barbiturates.
I had professional contacts that I could easily manipulate and I had an insatiable appetite for whatever I could con them out of. I began having performance issues at work in the E.R., and missing duty crew often.
Finally I got into a power struggle with my supervisor at the E.R., and lost. You can’t fight city hall, but I tried. I was right, everyone else was wrong. I never considered that I was actually the problem.
When I lost my job in the E.R., I also resigned from the V.F.D. in a storm of political controversy. I nearly burned my bridge with them, too.
I was admitted to a psychiatric institution for the first time when these two events happened. I became unemployed and unemployable for the next year and a half. My drug use reached new depths. I was admitted again and again to institutions.
My marriage suffered along with everything else. He would talk to me about my using but I became furious, defiant, yelling at him about how he didn’t know because he wasn’t a doctor.
My ‘medication’ was prescribed, sanctioned my professionals! Never mind the illegal drugs I bought from a man in D.C. I’d met on craigslist. What an obviously bad decision! But, I didn’t see that I was out of control. Denial is so powerful.
I took off to San Francisco on a whim with my old dealer from high school and while I was there I met a man. I fell in love with the city, mostly because it was so far from my life, but also because of the permissive drug culture. I latched on to the man I met, sensing he would be a vehicle for my geographic cure.
Near the end of my active addiction, I became despondent. I had no real solution for how things could get better for me. I wanted to escape but no longer had enough drugs to achieve that goal.
I wanted to run away to San Francisco, but at the time I was just running to Middleburg, VA to a horse farm where I could hang out with my old dealer and forget about life for a while. That wasn’t working anymore, either, and I got desperate.
I attempted suicide one night. I took an astronomical quantity of medication, with beer backs & hits of dope. It was certain that I’d succeed.
Then… it didn’t happen. I was furious. I tried to gouge my artery in my wrist; I felt for a pulse and started sawing away at it. That didn’t work, either. I was so angry! I was a Paramedic, damnit, I ought to know how to successfully die.
My Middleburg friend called my husband to come get me and when we got home he tried to take the rest of my drugs away which I had every intention of taking. I fought with him physically, scarring him in the process. I never tried suicide again.
I ran to San Francisco to be with the man I had met. The first day I moved in with him he put me in the Emergency Room. We lived in the Tenderloin District. I never went anywhere unarmed and certainly never went out at night.
This was a rude awakening compared to how I’d imagined things would be. After only 13 days, I escaped from him and called home for help. My husband refused to help me, our marriage was irreparable, but he asked me if I’d be willing go to treatment. Without hesitation, I agreed. I was at the end of the road.
My mom sent me a ticket and I slept in the airport, afraid to be anywhere he could get to me. I came home, 80 lbs. lighter than I’d been two years previously, chemically dependent, sporting bedbugs.
I stayed at my mom’s while I was waiting to go into the psychiatric institution again. Once there, I was medically monitored while tapering off my drugs. I never used again.
While in the institution, I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. I started going to Narcotics Anonymous religiously and taking medication that was non-habit forming to treat the Bipolar Disorder. I diligently participate in recovery from both diseases.
My life has changed a lot, but even more than that, I have changed. I’ve become patient, honest, responsible and dependable. I give back to Narcotics Anonymous every chance I get, including being a sponsor.
I have a sponsor and I work the 12 steps with her guidance. My relationship with my family has begun to repair itself and I’m a better mother/daughter/sister/girlfriend than I’ve ever been.
I plan to continue on the path of recovery, and cannot imagine how much more I can change.