Liam's Story

Using drugs wasnt really a conscious decision, it just became a thing to do. I started drinking when I was thirteen or fourteen, around the time that my father left. I dont use that as an excuse, though, because my brother and sister didnt do anything like what I did and they were going through the same things. A year or two later I started smoking pot. I started dropping things that I liked to do; first I quit playing baseball and then I left the basketball team. I told myself that I needed more time for my work, but that wasnt the real reason. Drugs were a way to keep from having any responsibility. Although I had gotten As and been recruited for soccer as a freshman, by the time I was a junior in high school I was content to get Cs and go to a county college so that I wouldnt have to work. When I was 16, I started hanging out in the Village and experimenting with other drugs like nitrous oxide and acid. But it wasnt until I used heroin that everything started falling apart. By some strange coincidence, the first time I used heroin was the day that Kurt Cobain killed himself. I liked it, but I never thought Id get addicted. I guess you always think youre young and invincible. I didnt use heroin again for a few months, but then I started using it on a daily basis-first one or two bags a day, then five or six. I was so into drinking and drugs that my junior and senior year are a complete blur; I dont even remember much of my graduation day.

When my family realized that something was wrong, they confronted me in an intervention. They had taken my car keys so that I would stay and listen, but I freaked and took off, using an extra set of keys that I kept hidden. I didnt really have anywhere to go, though, so I came back after a few days and eventually agreed to go into rehab. I went in high-by this time I was up to 11 or 12 bags of heroin a day-and I left after one day. I didnt know it, but the cops had searched my house and found drug paraphernalia in my room. They were going to let me complete the rehab program but because I left it, they arrested me on a bunch of different charges. I couldnt believe that I was actually going to jail; it seemed so surreal. I was getting processed and fingerprinted and photographed and all I could think was, This is just like on TV.

When I got bailed out, I agreed to a string of things, including returning to rehab, in order to avoid more severe consequences. I thought to myself that if I tricked them they would let me out of the program in thirty days, so I became a prodigy in rehab. I said and did all the right things, but I got high again the day I got out. I kept repeating a cycle of rehab, halfway houses, and relapsing. I just wasnt done; I had to suffer more. Heroin had become a maintenance drug that I had to use or else Id get extremely sick, so I started smoking large amounts of cocaine, trying to get high.

Then my best friend died in a car accident on the George Washington bridge. I realized that I would have been with him on any other day, and I saw my life in his. Youd think I would have changed, but that still wasnt enough. I wanted to kill myself but I knew I wouldnt unless the drugs killed me and it didnt seem like they were going to. I would have to kill myself or turn my life around. One day when I was driving into the city to get drugs, I was in a car accident that was almost identical to the one that had killed my best friend. I was high and I think I passed out; anyway, I ran into the back of a truck and the windshield shattered, leaving glass all over me and inside the car. I took off because I didnt want to have anything to do with the accident, and I still went to get the drugs even though I was covered with glass. I didnt want to think about how sick I was, but I had finally had enough. I went to rehab with my tail between my legs and did everything they suggested. I had been totally whipped and I was completely lost. My counselor gave me a book that hed bought for me-a Bible with the twelve steps described in it. I was so desperate that I started reading it and realized that I couldnt do it on my own.

That was three years ago. Ive built a foundation of little things underneath my life so that Im not just taking steps and hoping I wont fall. The support of my family has been instrumental in my recovery-without them, I dont think I would have ever had the desire to get better. Not many people recover from heroin; you dont want to use it , but it calls you back. With heroin, you dont need anything or anyone else in your life. I cant ever forget that Im an addict, because thats when I would get into trouble. Id be an idiot to say that it wont happen to me because I see it happen to other people all the time and I cant think Im different. I want to pass on my experiences because not to tell anyone would be selfish. Im not embarrassed about being a recovering addict and alcoholic; whats really embarrassing is being in jail or dropping out of rehab.

Last Modified 12/22/2005