Illicit drug user stories: Freedom fighter

The first time I used heroin was when I was 16, a long time ago now! I’d gone to visit a mate who was sharing a house in the city with some tech students. I get there and he informs me that they’d scored a double-0 cap of brown rocks, and did I know how to hit up?

Me being the smart arse that I was, said “yeah, no problems mate”. So we had one five ml syringe between the six of us. So I get the spoon and start to cook up like the little 16 year old professional I was passing my self off as being. Don’t ask how I judged how much to give each person, but I shot up five young students there and then, taking total control of the situation. I ended up with this little rock for myself, did it up then ended up laying on me mate’s bed listening to Lou Reed’s Take a walk on the wild side.

Boy, didn’t I think I’d arrived. Where you say? Don’t ask! I loved it. One lucky thing was the availability of the drug was intermittent so I didn’t just fall straight into a habit — that came a lot later, worse luck. I quickly got into taking whatever drug came my way, but in the early years, it was mainly pot and LSD. Back in the 70s, these were the preferred party drugs.

Smack me up

Then the 80s arrived without so much as a murmur. Heroin started to become fashionable and soon there was plenty of it around. I was always up for a taste or two when it was in front of me, you know? I saw a few of my friends getting hooked which didn’t impress me much at first. Especially when they changed and started doing all sorts of shit things, like stealing and rip-offs to get their hands on the stuff. I was lucky for a while, being a musician, having a straight girlfriend and all. These distractions helped me from falling in too deep — but the drug wasn’t finished with me yet, not by a long shot!

Later I got myself into a financial pickle. I was chatting with a mate who tells me he could score some China white at a great price, and if I turned it over a few times I could pay off me debts with change to spare. You beaut, I thought. I’d do it all above board so told me girlfriend about the plan, that I wouldn’t shoot the gear but only smoke it (chasing the dragon). She believed me. I believed me too, in my powers of self-control. Things went even better than planned financially, but hell, I was sure chasing a lot of the dragon!

The problem was the effect wore off so quickly when smoking the stuff. All my non-using friends didn’t seem to mind me at the tin foil every couple of hours, or even hourly sometimes. But my supply was about to call it quits. Unaware of my impending doom, I thought okay, I’ve achieved my objectives. Now I’ll just go to a friend’s place in the country and detox for a week and it will all be hunky dory.

The monkeys climb on

Yeah, right. Four hours after my last smoke, I started to get withdrawals and it just kept getting more intense. The devil, a large reptilian zoo had moved into my body, eating me alive from the inside out! I was doing it cold, man. No benzos, no nothing. Some well-meaning friends who weren’t users offered me cuppas saying “you’ll be all right mate”. Meanwhile, stuff is coming out of me both ends and I was going nuts after 24 hours.

The problem was I was cashed up. Being the first detox, I hadn’t thought about getting on at first, but it came to me 4am on the second sleepless night when time stands still, a second a minute, a minute an hour, an hour a day. Well fuck this, I couldn’t contemplate another day the way I was feeling.

I ordered my friends to drive to the city just for a small shot coz I was going crazy. Even though my friends had misgivings and all, they saw the pleading look in my tearful eyes and off we went, to a mate who I knew was holding the medicine I needed.

The heroin roller coaster

That was the start of a ten year roller coaster ride that I loved to hate, but couldn’t really get off. Smack took precedence over everything else in my life. I couldn’t leave the city for more than 24 hours without taking me medication along. At first, I was in shock because I’d lost my freedom and self-esteem, becoming all bitter inside.

When stoned, I was all ego and “hey what problem?” but I knew deep inside I had a big problem. I’d justify my actions when stoned and then feel sorry for myself when hanging out, and it felt like half your life was spent hanging out! Sundays were particularly shit as sourcing money wasn’t easy, and any shot reserved for Sundays usually got used the night before, thinking I’ll deal with it tomorrow. So tomorrow comes and I’m cursing myself for being a pig the night before.

All I wanted was to get off and feel like a normal person, but this drug was gnawing at my body and soul, undermining everything I felt or did. I became very unreliable to mates who tried to understand me but couldn’t. Tried to detox a few times at a rehab unit but depression used to do me in. Things are easier today with alternate drugs apart from methadone, which give you a better chance to get some sort of distance away from your habit.

There are also good support programs and groups that help you sort out what motivation got you using in the first place. Some sort of self-knowledge can be empowering and help gain the strength to fight the addiction. At the end of the day, you are the only one who is going to win this battle. Methadone programs can just end up with you swapping one nasty habit for another. To reclaim your freedom is something worth fighting for.

Fear & loathing in Brisvegas

For me, after years of using my self-esteem was rock bottom, self loathing even. That was a real obstacle to getting off, this “who cares?” deep inside. The physical and mental discomfort when the dreaded H has its hooks into you can run so deep that taking an alternative drug to get yourself into a holding pattern is sometimes the only way to break the cycle.

If that’s the case for you, you’ve got to follow it up with some counselling and help to keep the momentum going. Your mind can play some insidious tricks when you are using. It can take a while for all the hard wiring from your past lifestyle to be worked away. Then you can start on new patterns of thinking to build a future for yourself not involving heroin.

We all know how time consuming being an addict is. Say you manage to get straight and it’s cool, you are in the honeymoon period. You feel great, no skin crawling, but the rot can start to set in after you’ve patted yourself on the back. You start thinking well is this it? This is the vulnerable part. You now have your capacity to feel back. Your brain might start to play tricks on you, throwing up intense and overwhelming experiences from the past. This is when you need the safety net, whether it’s counselling, Narcotics Anonymous, support groups, family or friends. Anyway, anyone who’s been there knows this isn’t rocket science, eh? It’s all just learning to take care of yourself.

Freedom

I’d forgotten how to do that. Sure, I could feed, clothe and shelter myself but it’s the emotional side of things that’s important. We have all lost drug buddies over the years to all sorts of crises. So now I just do it one day at a time (sorry, cliche!), build new relationships, mend old ones and most importantly make peace with myself. It has got easier with time. I used to get anxious over things like past mistakes, things that couldn’t be changed (unless it was someone I hurt, then I could try to make amends).

Nowadays I put me and my mental health first. I measure up situations and judge what risks I’m putting myself under. As we all know, when straight it can only take a little situation to reignite the desire to use. Then there’s all the guilt that comes with busting. If I did bust, I’d try not to be too hard on myself and focus on the good work I had achieved so far. As they say, it’s all character building! The fight against addiction has one great reward — the freedom to move about whenever and wherever you want. Good luck and may the power be with you!

Freedom Fighter 05

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