Billy'sBabygirl
03-22-2006, 06:04 AM
Up until three years ago, I never really knew what an true addict was. I had ran with some of the big boys in my late teens. I thought all addicts were the same, whether it was coke or crack or even herione. These guys were able to have normal lives. I know now they were weekend warriors.
In my late 30's I decided to take my boyfriend in, who was trying to put his life together after years of Methodone and pain killers abuse. I thought, hey I could be the one. His parents, his sister and even his best friend had failed, but I could be the one. After all I had seen it all. And best of all I was not a user and didn't have anything laying around the house. I am a single mom and we could give him all the support he needed.
How wrong I was.
He layed on my couch for the first two months. We spent every other week at the hospital with withdrawal symptoms. By the four month, I was giving him money on the weekends, just so I could have a sanity break. He was working two jobs. We were making progress. Then the fight came and he left for two weeks.
He met some people who introduced him to herione. And then he came home. Boy what a difference in craving for herione than pain medicine. Three months later he went to rehab.
After an exhausting year with me enabling him, by giving him money just so I would haven't to deal with the suicide threats, the conning, all the bs being slung about. I kicked him out. Needless to say he was arrested on possession charges. He spent eight months inside.
If you think they can't get in the prison, you are so wrong. It is more easily available there than out on the streets. Stuff is smuggled in on a daily basis. There are crooked CO's and even moms. I saw it all.
When he got out he decided to live with his parents. We still dated until he cheated on me a month after he got out. I found out from his mom, he was borrowing money off of them and even taking his dad's pain medicine.
He came home to me on February 27th, my life had moved on. But his hadn't. There were fresh tread marks up and down his arms. I ran to the balcony, knowing I could never go back to that lifestyle. The one that had sucked him in and was never going to let him go. The following day, I took him back up near where his parents live. He promised he would get it together, because he wanted to come home to me. Within hours, he had broken into his parents house, stole their credit cards, and car.
The police found him hustling in the city. It seems weird but I'm actually glad they found him. At least I don't have to worry about him getting killed on the streets.
A neighbor moved into the building. She calls herself recovering. She has two little ones. And every night I see her walking the grounds, looking for her next fix.
An Addict is an Addict for Life. They crave it. They shake for it. They will promise you the moon and the stars just to get their next fix. And though you want to believe every word they are saying, deep in your heart, you know they are just telling you this to get their next fix. And tomorrow you will hear the same promises all over again. Because an addict is an addict for life.
In my late 30's I decided to take my boyfriend in, who was trying to put his life together after years of Methodone and pain killers abuse. I thought, hey I could be the one. His parents, his sister and even his best friend had failed, but I could be the one. After all I had seen it all. And best of all I was not a user and didn't have anything laying around the house. I am a single mom and we could give him all the support he needed.
How wrong I was.
He layed on my couch for the first two months. We spent every other week at the hospital with withdrawal symptoms. By the four month, I was giving him money on the weekends, just so I could have a sanity break. He was working two jobs. We were making progress. Then the fight came and he left for two weeks.
He met some people who introduced him to herione. And then he came home. Boy what a difference in craving for herione than pain medicine. Three months later he went to rehab.
After an exhausting year with me enabling him, by giving him money just so I would haven't to deal with the suicide threats, the conning, all the bs being slung about. I kicked him out. Needless to say he was arrested on possession charges. He spent eight months inside.
If you think they can't get in the prison, you are so wrong. It is more easily available there than out on the streets. Stuff is smuggled in on a daily basis. There are crooked CO's and even moms. I saw it all.
When he got out he decided to live with his parents. We still dated until he cheated on me a month after he got out. I found out from his mom, he was borrowing money off of them and even taking his dad's pain medicine.
He came home to me on February 27th, my life had moved on. But his hadn't. There were fresh tread marks up and down his arms. I ran to the balcony, knowing I could never go back to that lifestyle. The one that had sucked him in and was never going to let him go. The following day, I took him back up near where his parents live. He promised he would get it together, because he wanted to come home to me. Within hours, he had broken into his parents house, stole their credit cards, and car.
The police found him hustling in the city. It seems weird but I'm actually glad they found him. At least I don't have to worry about him getting killed on the streets.
A neighbor moved into the building. She calls herself recovering. She has two little ones. And every night I see her walking the grounds, looking for her next fix.
An Addict is an Addict for Life. They crave it. They shake for it. They will promise you the moon and the stars just to get their next fix. And though you want to believe every word they are saying, deep in your heart, you know they are just telling you this to get their next fix. And tomorrow you will hear the same promises all over again. Because an addict is an addict for life.