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Posted by on in Drug Addiction

Why The Stigma of Drug and Alcohol Addiction Holds Everyone Back

 

Stigma is the look on their face when they find out you've done drugs. It's the judgment that crossed their minds. It's the assumption that you must have a lesser mental capacity than most. It's having to lie about your past for fear of being viewed as a criminal. It's not always obvious, except to the addict and likely to those who have loved an addict. Common misconceptions include thinking that willpower can cure addiction, or that more severe punishments will motivate addicts to stop using. Many even think that terming addiction a ‘disease’ is just an excuse. When it comes to addiction recovery, this stigma can be the biggest hurdle of all.

 

Stigma increases the difficulty individuals and families face when seeking the help they desperately need. This results in many people preferring to delay or avoid treatment rather than face the stigma from co-workers, managers, friends, and even family. This tends to only deepens the isolation and the addictions. The Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration has estimated that 22.7 million Americans need drug and alcohol addiction treatment, but only 2.5 million people receive it. That's less than a one in ten.

 

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Posted by on in Drug Addiction

I have been using meth for nearly twenty years and have managed to live otherwise pretty healthy.  I don't lead the typical meth lifestyle and I eat and sleep and get lots of exercise.  I even have a job where I help out other addicts.  I am very isolated though and have no friends anymore and am very alone which I think makes it more difficult when trying to quit.  I really want to try though because I don't want to have to go away to rehab or something.  I would like to think that I can do it on my own.  I am just seeing what kind of resources and supports there are out there and hopefullyconnect with some others that are going through similar stuff as me.  I am just not feeling overly confident right now.  I appreciate any advice i can find about quitting.

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Posted by on in Drug Addiction

After posting wild-eyed Southern Boys I realized I had sort of left the story open ended. Melvin ended up doing time for attempted capital murder. He did a long stretch in TDC. Because he continued to kill even after he was incarcerated, it was speculated that he would never get out. However the wheels of Justice do grind although slowly and he is now a free man. Paula Patton continue on in a life of meth addiction ultimately leading to her incarceration after being on probation for meth in four counties. She is in jail today.

I wanted to take a minute to discuss the progression of Meth over the years. When I started out doing it in 1986 it was called P2P. It was a far superior high than the drugs that followed. During the P2P days it was much more economical than its antecedentes. A very small amount was all that was required for a several-day high. One in which the user with perfectly satisfied for several days before beginning to want more. Its lineage goes like this P2P followed by anhydrous ammonia followed by/or accompanied by red phosphorus followed by today's meth ice. Ice is like a meth addicts crack. It's got little in the way of staying power as compared to its predecessors, but its what is most readily available. But when injected it does have a significant rush. Different people are attracted to different things when it comes to drugs. Some people are all about the rush. They prefer to do drugs that have an immediate intoxicating effect. When shooting ice, the user gets what you would call a sort of blow in your lungs. Almost an immediate expansion of your lungs. Hopefully to be followed by what users term "leg". As I said different people are attracted to different types. Some people will shop around for the best rush, other people we'll hold out for something with a little bit of staying power. Those who hold out want to stay awake sometimes days at a time. Back in the anhydrous, red phosphorus days, it was not unusual to locate meth that would keep you awake. Nothing however could compare to the days of P2P. Before authorities bottlenecked the purchase of ephedrine or pseudoephedrine, person after person taught another person, the black magic of cooking it. To the point where meth cooks were quite common. Amateur chemists, we're cooking at ounces and pounds of Meth at a time in a clandestine labs everywhere. I can only speak in the past tense because I have limited knowledge on where they're cooking it today. What I hear from the people that I know they are still involved with meth manufacturing and delivery tell me most of it originates in Mexico.

The most important thing that I can tell you about meth, in any form is that it's highly illegal. Possession, distribution, manufacturing, any traffic or trading of it in any form, is punishable by incarceration in every state in the United States. There is no safe place, nor safe way to be associated with it at all. It's all harmful, poisonous, and life-threatening. It will steal your health, your teeth and your future, your hopes, your dreams. It will rob you of your family. It's like the Grim Reaper. It's so very hard to shake off this particular monkey.

If you've never tried it for God sake don't. If you've tried it and find yourself captive by it, never give up the fight to get off it. You've got to keep trying or you for sure will never beat it. You never know which time will be the last time. Whether you beat it or whether they bury you with it. It's not glamorous or exciting or fun. It is a life changer, for the worse. It should come accompanied by a skull and cross bones. In a lifetime of disastrous decisions the one I would change, more so than any other would be the day I picked up a needle and a spoonful of meth. 

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Posted by on in Drug Addiction

I'm taking some time to address a pet topic of mine in the drug world. Its families, namely ones with children, and by children I mean around 14 and younger. Both boys and girls who through no fault of their own, get dealt what I term a "shit hand". Parents either alcoholics or addicts. They frequently are without supervision becuse the parents or authority figures are passed out or completely gone to try to score dope, which upon arriving home will lock themselves away in a room to use up their score. Small children will knock incessantly crying, scared, and confused. They don't want to be locked away. I can remember my son in particular developed an unreasonable dislike of shut and locked doors. If you or someone you know is an addict of any sort, their/your children are victim of at least neglect, at most abuse. Children in addicts houses arent fed appropriately because some piece of shit traded away their food stamps for 50 cents on the dollar, now the children go hungry. We here in the wealthiest nation on the planet second only to the oil producing nations, and our children starve and go homeless. No shoes, no jackets. All because we just punish the addict rather than explore his/her motivation. Just incarcerate non violent individuals. The task forces grow rich with their seizures. They kick in doors with chidren in them often sleeping on the floor. I willingly signed over custody of my two children because I was a lousy parent, but I loved my babies enough to put them with my Mom and Dad who had successfully raised 3 of their 4 children to be good, functioning, successful members of society. During my years as a drug distributor I saw many horrors of selfish, cruel neglect. I know of a couple right now who have custody of her two kids. The way they are raising them is literally criminal. The mother hs taught her children to be distractions while she steals. Mom actually loaded a buggy full of groceries and told her 10yr old daughter to just push it out the door. Not surprisingly the child got caught. Thus the mother finally got caught herself. She has a court date coming up.  The night of the murder of an abusive boyfriend by his broken girlfriend, her 12 yr old son heard it all in an adjacent room. It's very simple, if you are an addict of almost any type; drug, alcohol, gambling, even a sex addict, you are almost certainly exposing your child/children to some truly negative behavior and exhibiting poor prioritizing. Yes I know you love your child, yes I realize its difficult raising children as an addict. But if your still making poor choices, spending money you dont have to stay high then you arent doing your kids any favors. And if you are staying high on your childrens government money then fucking shame on you. Thats not your own cozy little bankroll, thats blood mmoney. For you are killing their childhood as certainly as if you pulled a  .45 out and blew their head off. Scout around. Good parents are almost everywhere. There's someone who will do the job that you are selfishly failing at. If you truly love your children, give them a chance to be children. Someday they'll understand. Thank you for your time and patience during my rant. God bless you and give you strength.

Boots

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Posted by on in Drug Addiction
  • My family and my psychiatrist are cautiously crossing their fingers at the change in personality this holiday season. They know that this timie of year virtually ALWAYS finds me in a drug induced fog sinking into a dreadful depression. With the tweaking of some different meds, I have actually made a playlist of holiday songs that I can be caught singing along with. It's been years since I had a needle hanging out of my body. It's true I have had far less money but neither do I have to drive with one or more felonies on me. How pleasant not to live in mortal fear of the area law enforcement. 
  • I thought I'd tell a couple of stories that took place around Christmas time. The first one took place while I'd had a job at an upscale retail store where I was the dock supervisor. During this entire time, unbeknownst to me, my husband, and father of my two children was selling meth behind my back. I knew we were still using, but thought we were paying for it. We lived in a rat infested frame house where the vermin were bigger than the cats in the neighborhood. Hand to God. You could walk outside and listen for a little bit and inevitably you would hear a scuffle in the trees overhead followed by a thud. Then you would see a disheveled feline shaking off the leaves and dirt as they stalked away. Every day. It was insane of us to subject our children to a house so infested by river rats that I couldn't put my 11 month old infant down on the floor without her getting eaten up by the fleas of the RATS, we had no inside pets. I also paid for daycare during this misadventure, which is altogether a different tale. 
  • So imagine a tattered blue and white 1 bedroom frame house. Overrun with huge rats and it's Christmas. I had gotten off work Christmas eve, picked up the babies and gone home. As evening rocked around bedtime came so I took my babies to the lone bedroom which held a king size waterbed and we three laid down. After a bit I began to hear shuffling in the living room. Voices grew louder and more excited, so loud in fact that I got up to see what the fuss was about.
  • In the dingy living room my husband and his brother, both spun off on meth, had the tired old couch up on its end and one had a .22cal rifle while the other one had an air rifle. Both were hopping up and down and taking turns taking aim at what I could only assume was a rat which shot out of the couch and promptly crawled up our "Charlie Brown" Christmas tree. The fight began again with great vigor as they flailed about at the pitiful cedar tree whacking away at the branches throwing balls and ornaments everywhere. They both saw me standing there in my pajamas at the same time. Each began to tell me loudly what had transpired. I sushed them both and just shook my head and closed the bedroom door. I got back into bed with my poor babies, pulled them close and wept. That was years and years ago, back when I still had tears to cry with and had hope for a better life. It would require a miracle and Santa was fresh out of miracles that year. 
  • I can't even say how many Christmases passed that found me alone trying to interpret directions for assembly of one toy or another, weeping and assailed with self loathing for dragging out what was a hopeless situation with the kids Daddy. I loved him as much as its possible to love another human being. We'd gotten addicted together, had two perfect children together, learned how to sell dope and not get caught together. I couldn't imagine life without him. Finally one fateful Thanksgiving day, after I'd been unable to reach him for three days, he answered. There was obviously someone else and there was. Barely 18 yrs old. Fresh in town from Houston where she'd just lost custody of a son, to my husband's 37 yrs old. Looking for his lost youth. She would never ask him the tough questions. Big eyed and stupid, but not so dense that she couldn't stroke his ego like I wouldn't do. I never was much of a game player in relationships. I felt it was beneath me, that I shouldn't have to. I always was utterly faithful in all my marriages. It was a pride thing. If I felt myself looking with more interest than was reasonable then I would tell my partner on my way out the door. I began my battle with drugs in the Spring of 1985. Big hair, questionable music, leg warmers and spandex. I'll end my fight the day my journey on this small blue planet the day I breathe my last. Even now, clean and sober, it creeps into my dreams at night. While I can triumph over it when awake, it defeats me as I slumber. Although I am never able to actually successfully do a bump in my dreams. It's like chasing an orgasm in your sleep or with an inept partner like my 2nd and 4th husbands. "Just don't touch it, I'll take care of it." SMDH. Lol. Got off track there, beg your pardon. Hahaha. Gotta hang onto your sense of humor. I've always been able to laugh at myself, regardless of the pathos of some of my black days. Dark humor, yes. Between my 3rd and 4th husband's was the only truly good man that I'd ever have pursue me. He was 7 yrs celibate when we started dating. I was trying desperately to get clean and stay that way. He'd just come out of the youth mission field. He was finishing up his masters at a nearby Christian university where he was cast the lead in the school's competitive drama production. He played classical and Spanish guitar fluently, also spoke perfect Spanish, hailed from Alabama. He could also juggle, walk any distance on his hands and make any balloon animal known to man. He was also last but not least, oh so easy on the eyes and built like an athlete. He had a beautiful singing voice and a generous nature. He was living with my pastor when we met. I tried to wait til he asked me out, but he was so polite that I finally got my chance to ask him. Yes I was still struggling with addiction and yes I was still madly in love with my children's father, who was the quintessential bad boy. Motorcycle, leathers, long hair and as bad assed as any given situation demanded. I never knew him to lose any confrontation. Even when he was outnumbered. 
  • One evening my ex (3) showed up with some fire and needles while I was home alone. My parents had taken the children to Padre Island to visit my brother thus leaving me alone in the house. When Derrick showed up holding, I called Beau (the good guy) and cancelled our plans. Bad guys 1 Good guys 0.  We retreated to my parents room where we were doing dope and having sex. All my parents had on their windows was mini blinds. It was very easy to see throught them. While we were in the middle of doing a bump, I heard a rustling in the bushes as they scraped across the window. Immediately I jumped up and grabbed a robe quickly. Derrick asked what I was doing and I said that someone was in the bushes. He said Who cares, and kept on drawing up the meth. Then I heard a knock coming from the door in the garage. With a sinking feeling I ran to the door. I opened the door and as I had feared, Beau was standing in the garage. When I opened it he moved to come in til I placed my hand on his chest. His eyes were like fires and he was visibly shaken. I told him to leave and that I would call him in the morning. He reluctantly took a step backwards and as I frantically tried to get him to leave, he finally got my attention by saying "If you say that there's nothing going on, then I'll believe you and go." His remark caused me to pause. I could here Derrick loudly making threats which I knew weren't empty. My tender new fellow had no conception of the beating he was about to take, so I pushed and shoved him until he finally left. I faced the realization that we were worlds apart. I was a hard core junkie, he was a servant of God. I broke up with him but he persisted in pursuing me. He joined the Air Force reserves for more money so he could provide for me and my two babies. He wrote me long, loving letters and bought me roses weekly. Gradually he began to wear me down with his unconditional unselfish love. I finally unbent and embraced a clean Christian future. A few days after I'd agreed to marry him and follow him into the mission fields of Venezuela, I received a phone call from his commanding officer teling me that Beau and 3 other airmen had saved a very young girl who was being gang raped by a genuine gang. They saved the girl. Beau hd taken a hard blow to the head. Two dys lter he layed down before his Christian rock band practice, went to sleep and never woke up. Aneurysm. 
  • Thats all right now, I'm melancholy. Thanks for your time. Boots
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