The things I said I would never do when I grew up…
Man if only one had the will power to resist the human nature of curiosity.
Certain drugs attract certain people. The effects they give you are so euphoric, and make you feel so good you wonder why people have told you they were bad all your life. I have always heard it’s the feeling of those drugs that are addicting. Which make people want to keep taking them over and over to try and achieve the feeling they received the first time they did it. Which as we know doesn’t happen. So they fall into the class of being a drug addict.
The picture I posted above is of me and my best friend Sandra. She is my notorious neighbor I robbed while under the influence of Xanax. One of the world’s best benzo’s I have ever taken. The high the benzo’s give you is the high I was always chasing. That feeling of being able to relax so much that you care not where you lay your head, much-less what other’s may think of you. I know they made me feel like a ‘Boss’.
I also feel that they made me more in touch with my truest inner feelings. I could always open up and speak about the things that bothered me the most. I didn’t know what the word ‘Shy’, meant.
I also didn’t know the damage I was causing to my brain every time I got high. I didn’t acknowledge it so I didn’t care. I also never realized how close to death I was each night I lay my head down to sleep. I didn’t realize how bad my addiction was until after I got locked up this last time. The charge I was in for was ‘ Burglary 2nd’. I had my tooth pulled a week prior and had went to the pharmacy to fill my script of pain medicine. Upon getting out of the truck and closing the door, I slammed my finger in between it and the cab. Ouch. There went that fingernail. I was bleeding pretty bad when I walked inside. The people that owned and ran the pharmacy have known me since I was a teenager, and therefore didn’t think twice about helping me. The woman cleared out the sink area where. they had already filled scripts, bagged and tagged for pick up, in and around the sink area. She got all of them out of the way, she thought, and continued to turn the faucet on so I could rinse the blood off that was running down my arm. I noticed the only remaining bag off top. I tried to keep the attention off me so I could see what was in it. All I saw was the beginning of the word. ‘Alpralozam”!! (Not sure of my spelling there)
It was over. That bag was mine. I scooped it up and shoved it under my arm hiding it inside, under my jacket. Went to the front counter to pay for my medicine and walked out scot free. Not a care in the world. I had just scored a 90 count script of 1mg Xanax and they were all mine. I struck gold and had absolutely no one to share them with or to tell how I got them. All without getting caught. Man I was big pimping that day. I had my script of 1mg Klonopin filled earlier that morning. Now I had this 90 count bottle of Xanax. I was so high I’m completely surprised I was even able to commit the crimes I did that night with just how much I ingested that day. In medical terms I shouldn’t have even been coherent. But I was. I was stubborn and as I have said earlier very hard headed. I fought the side effects to the extreme. Not only was I coherent and able to communicate. I committed a class C felony. Which involved breaking into my neighbor’s house, getting in her purse and stealing her script of Xanax. Then just for the hell of, her prescription of VyVanse as well.
She soon caught on after she escorted me out of her house. Upon noticing what was missing she became extremely pissed. She had every right to be too. She then told her husband. Who, little did I know, had been planning on pressing charges on me for credit card theft and other numerous petty charges. Him hearing this made him get out of his chair to try and reign in the situation that was developing right in front of his very eyes. I barely remember everything in solid detail that happened that night. I know she walked up in my house with a big ass butcher knife, threatening me with it, I guess in case I became violent. Which thank goodness I didn’t. Things could have unfolded in so many different scenario’s that night had I chose to become violent. She had every right to feel the way she felt. I know I was beyond mad when I had my pills stolen from me. There was nothing in the world more worse than waking up looking forward to popping more pills only to find that your stash has been raided and your left empty handed looking like ‘Who dunnit? & ‘What for’?.
I was arrested the next day. The day before my husband’s birthday. Greg told me the judge said if I came before him one more time that he was going to sit me down for a while. He was tired of dealing with me, and having to see me repeatedly, over the same charges. I could only imagine how he was going to be towards me when he found out I had caught a new charge while out on bond for the one’s he was fed up in dealing with. I can’t say I blame him. I know how I get after repeatedly telling my kids to stop fighting and to get along. Or to share the dam toys and stop being mean to each other. That’s how it was. He was fed up. Quite frankly so was I. Greg told me everything that was going to happen if I didn’t listen and stop fucking up. I just was too far out there to catch on or hell, even care why he was telling me those things all the time. I was sick of hearing that I was going to jail all the time. “Tina if you do that.” “Tina if you leave to go do this.” ” Your going to go to jail if you get caught.” I’d get pissed off, and I’d yell at him to shut up and stop talking that kind of shit up. Only that’s not what he was doing. He was telling me from experience. he is 20 years older than me and has seen and been through more than I will ever truly know. He was trying to pass on his wisdom and knowledge of being street smart and having common sense. It was never meant for me to catch on. It was meant for me to get locked up and serve those years. If I hadn’t I would never have been able to become honest with myself, and later on other’s. To be honest and tell her I was sorry for all the things I did to her. Betraying her trust and stealing from her. She had the forgiveness in her heart, that probably no one else in the world would of had, when I showed up on her doorstep 4 1/2 years later, waiting patiently outside her door. Pumping myself up to apologize to her face. Not on paper in a letter, but looking her in the eyes while saying the words that were screaming from my heart. She then seen the real me. The me I was when we first met. Before that nasty addiction got ahold of me as tightly as it did.
I titled it De a Vu, and said all of that to say this. My son is now fighting his own addiction. His drug of choice is way worse than marijuana. He was caught by his dad with said tool needed to use the drug in his hand. He was naturally rendered speechless. When I was told, even I didn’t know what to do or say or how to get to the bottom of the situation. Everything I watched my sister go through, my kids have watched me go through. Things I said I would never do. Of course I naturally did them. Found what I liked the most, and chose to abuse it every chance I got. Now I suffer from permanent brain defects such as seizure’s, stuttering, body ticks and jerks I can’t control. All unwanted and unwelcomed.
How can I keep my son from going down the same road that his aunt Jenny and I have traversed so well? Help and advice needed, and greatly welcomed and appreciated. I know a lot about just a little. Help me help him see there’s a bigger and better life waiting for him if would only choose sobriety over using. He’s a debater is why I’m asking. He will divulge the positive traits he thinks the drug gives him. Not really knowing he can do the same things of interest without using it as he can when he does. Then of course follows the ‘You have no right to talk, you did it and you turned out fine’!!! Never having seen the ugly side of drug abuse. How the chemicals tear your body down and cause you unknown side effects you’d never think possible. I don’t want my son to learn the hard way like I did. I want to catch this nasty disease before it goes further than it has already.
Open for suggestions. Willing to talk about in depth with anyone willing to reach out that may have some good advice for a troubled, recovering addict mother trying to keep her son from choosing the same path in life, before he ruins his. Before it’s ever started.
Signing off…troubled mom.