Cocaine Addiction

It’s funny how when you are young-nothing seems dangerous. I, like most other young people, thought myself invincible. While at a party after the bars closed, I was introduced to coke by some “friends”. That sudden rush that hit shortly after snorting it is a sensation I will never forget. Never before had I felt so euphoric and sexually stimulated. I only had to try it once to realize that I loved this stuff! Not only did I feel sexier and euphoric, but I had energy galore. I got stuff done and loved doing it! Of course, I loved using cocaine after that, but that very first high was unbeatable. I kept chasing the ghost, though, and kept doing cocaine.

Every time I would come down from the high, or “crash” it would hit harder. I would sleep sometimes the entire day and even if I didn’t I was not good company. I would get splitting headaches and just feel miserable. All I could think of was snorting more of that drug and feeling good again. When I wasn’t on the coke, it was almost impossible to get motivated to do anything. The energy was just another crutch I used for using drugs. My cocaine addiction story is like so many others. I know because I watched my friends go through it too.

Mine turns out happier than most other stories, however. I lost one friend to cocaine and three others ended up in prison as a result of using (and needing) cocaine. Another friend ended up in an abusive relationship with someone who willingly supplied her with coke, but beat her regularly. I’m here to tell you that there is no such thing as a happy ending to cocaine addiction stories. They all end badly. At the very least, there are years wasted, and at the worse, lives are lost.

I’m thankful that my addiction is a thing of the past. I no longer rely on drugs to get me through the day. I remember the sensations well but I now can be happy and feel sensual without the use of any drug.

The only good part to a cocaine addiction story is the part where the addict stops the drug.

Whether it has been weeks, months or years since you first tried cocaine, it is time to make the decision to stop letting cocaine run your life and if need be, to seek treatment. That is what I did and I will never regret the decision to stop.

My spouse is an addict.

He is addicted to crack cocaine (which is one of the hardest addictions to stop).  Untop of that he uses oxycodon and alcohol. He was in an in-house program in 0/8. He relapsed after he was released from this 2 week program, which was obviously not long enough for his issues. It was one year to the date his relapse occurred. It has affected the whole family, myself and the kids, who he has been with for 11 years. He lost a good paying job due to this addiction. He has had to move out of our home, and is staying with his brother who gave him shelter (he spent many nights and days walking the streets or sleeping under a bridge or sleeping in the park behind our home, (I was told this by police that had come to our home, when he tried to break in one night while he was high.

He stole my son (his stepsons) expensive guitar to get money for his habit.

His life, our life are being destroyed from his habit. Most of his family has disowned him, stating they tried to help, but can no longer do it, without him wanting to do something about it himself. His brother will be kicking him out next week and he told me his spouse will no longer welcome him. He once again will walk the streets with nowhere to go.

With his money gone, the dealer won’t want him around nor will his family including his step kids and myself. He has no money to pay for help, he can’t borrow, he is in debt due to his ongoing addiction to crack cocaine, oxy’s and alcohol.

I say goodbye to who used to be a good man; a waste of a life due to drugs. He will die a lonely death if he continues, and then I will hear a knock on my door to go identify him.

Stoad

I’m sure you think you are all hard and shit and solid as fuck. But you’re not.

Think about it how solid are you when you’re not solid to yourself? I have sold drugs, gang beat people and left them for dead and hurt the ones I love and who love me. The whole time I was doing the things I did I was hurting myself. Remember good people love you but you need to love yourself first. You are and should be top priority. Your bro’s are only your bro’s for the moment. They are not your true friends. They only keep you around to do their dirty work. You are the only one who can be your best friend. I guarantee while you sit in that detention center nothing has changed in your outside world and I will tell you it wont. People are still using dope; selling dope and hurting others. They will and are living life of total dysfunction. Your life is in your hands, only you hold the power to prosper. Think about you and only you look at your possibilities on both sides of the fence. You can’t blame anyone else for your misery and misfortunes.

I’m in a fucking Rehab center having to look at how I could have changed my life a long time ago. You are sill young and can make your life a hell of a lot better then it is now. Only you can change you life for the better no one is going to do it for you. Trust me it took me 17 years of drug use and a life of hell to figure it out.

Thanks,

I.R.

The past year, I was dealing drugs. I sold coke to make profit and make more money that I had. Soon enough, I started to think that everybody was out to get me and I didn’t feel safe anywhere. I now realize that instead of helping out people, I was destroying them like a poisonous snakebite. I viewed everybody as a potential customer. Even my friends were noticing it because I was always asking them that if they wanted anything come and see me. The implications were the worst, I would sell coke to different people and I would see the pain and the strong addiction that they were hooked on. I was feeling so bad giving more coke to them. They were looking at me like I was their God; instead I was the dealer who sold the devil’s creation. I really hope that if you have or know somebody with the same situation that I had, help him or her see the light out of a world of darkness.

C.P.

I would like to share some advice; that each of you should love yourself.  When I was a teenage girl, I was easy and would sleep around.  This was disrespectful to myself.  This is not the way to get love or appreciation.  You need to respect yourself before others will to.  I am now a modest, faithful woman with more self confidence.  I  hope that every young lady can love and save that love for someone deserving.

Sincerely,

Jennifer B.

I could hear the deafening noise of people arguing bitterly. Loud heated conversations were more than my ears could handle. People whose voices were awfully familiar made shouts of unutterable words. Banging on walls and surrounding metallic clutter added to the noise. It was a situation I was glad I didn’t have to handle. Then suddenly, a heavy blow went landing with a deafening bang on the only warming place we knew. General chaos and commotion ensued as people ran in all directions. The adjacent cartoned and newspaper houses caught fire. More chaos as some tried to put out the fire. The air became dense with smoke and the natural daily stench of our neighborhood did not make things any better.

Then, out of nowhere, a brain-shuttering wail of sirens was more than audible. That was the last thing this closely knit fraternity would desire. The sound of heavy-engine vehicles could be heard approaching. Now the activities changed from putting off the fire to running for dear life. Law enforcers had been the fraternity’s dangerous enemy and even the little ones had been taught that. People were bumping on each other as they ran to find a safe hide out. Others were being trampled on after tripping on the clutter.

I could hear the sound of someone shouting instructions. I edged over and saw a huge, heavily dressed man dragging a heavy dark hose. The yellow flames were getting closer and closer and it was getting warmer and warmer. Then suddenly I realized that there was no more noise and everyone seemed to have disappeared. Then the hushed voices behind alerted me of the presence of intruders in my hideout. I quickly moved away from them and found myself another haven.

I saw it, neatly packaged in a clear plastic bag. I could hardly believe my luck. He must have dropped it accidentally while freeing. I carefully opened the wrapping and gave myself a generous helping. The feeling was comparable to no other. The heat was becoming more and more unbearable. I had to move. I tried to crawl but my foot was stuck. As I bent over to free it, something heavy knocked my head. Gradual darkness fell over me.

I woke up in a funny smelling brightly lit room. My head hurt so badly.  I could feel the ache in my whole body as my eyes followed the visible parts of my body, all covered in bandages. I could hear a concerned voice talking about me. I was only thirteen, having been hooked on cocaine for as long as I can remember.

I had not known of any other world other than my street family. The kind nurse offered to help me clean up, go to school and make something of myself. I now have an opportunity to dream, where do I start? How do I help my street family?

Tick tick tick tick tick… Plastic credit card against hard surface – up the nose… All smiles.

Snorting cocaine’s a bit like shooting yourself in the head, with a much smaller barrel and your own breath providing the momentum. The shot goes straight to the brain, literally, but unlike a bullet it makes you feel amazing.

My nose burns the way I like it. The three powder-lines left on the bathroom granite call my name but I know I’d better not. Keli snorts the next line and her head quivers the way it always does; a quick, almost imperceptible jolt that most people wouldn’t see, the bullet striking home.

Sandra takes the next one and her eyes glaze for a few seconds as she stares at her reflection in the mirror, her hand rubbing softly at her nose. “Just rub it in circles,” says Keli. She knows that a persons’ first time can be a bit uncomfortable. I’m surprised she remembers her first time with it being so long ago.

Keli and Sandra look at each other: “Fuck them all!” they shriek in unison. The three of us jauntily take our leave of the now stifling bathroom, each grinning like the village idiot. With cocaine playing its wonderful game on our dopamine receptors, it’s going to be very difficult to put us down tonight.

We head to the dance floor, and Keli has spotted something she likes. I lose sight of her roundabout approach towards mister whoever because I’ve seen something I like too. At the centre of the dance floor is a girl and we lock eyes. She’s blonde and very pretty and her smile is inviting. We do that awkward dance floor shuffle, maneuvering through the swaying crowd, tripping over feet and bumping into legs whilst trying to maintain an element of finesse. Next we’re dancing together, my hands on her hips and hers round my neck. It’s like living in TiVo, the same story again and again. I chase the same notion of love every night, almost always succeeding in finding someone to pretend to have something in common with and take home, to distract myself from the fact that my relationships are as emotional as the inside of an empty operating theatre, and that I chase after anything I can that’ll help me forget that fact.

I find out her name is Nicola, and the night continues with drinks at my place. A few covert trips to the bathroom to top up and we’re on our way – same old same old.

I know the morning’s going to be bad because of the light. It cuts into my psyche like a surgeons’ scalpel through flesh, and that’s just the light. The inside of my fragile mind feels broken, and the world looks terrifying threatening. I don’t know how I’m going to deal with Nicole.

Thankfully she’s one of those ones; pragmatic. She’s picked up her stuff and is nowhere to be seen. Probably woke up next to my scrawny frame and decided to scram. Fucking slut, but at least I don’t have to deal with her today.

And so it goes. I’ll have a few glasses of water and get through the day. At least I don’t have to chug three espressos and get to work, thank god for the holidays. Tonight will likely be the same as last, and tomorrow the same as today, just a little gloomier.

But for a few hours tonight it’ll all be great again, just wish someone would draw that fucking curtain closed.

The addict is my boyfriend, well technically fiance but I really don’t think we’ll be getting married. We’ve been together for five years come this December, but we’ve been living together for three years. We just had our first baby, she’s two months and looks exactly like him. When we first began dating I had no clue he was an addict. He didn’t actually tell me until our relationship was pretty involved.

At first I didn’t think it was too bad, he was normal. He has a good job, in a hospital, he was in school and he had goals in life. It wasn’t until we started living together that I noticed how bad he was. I’ve never known anyone with a cocaine addiction and I had never tried it. He wanted me to try it with him, to see what it was like. I am not into drugs, I’ve tried smoking pot, do to peer pressure and didn’t like it but he wanted me to try just a little coke. I tried it with him, I didn’t like it, and I regret ever trying it.

He continued using and when he’d come he’d feel guilty the next day. He’d show me his little baggy with the white powder in it and say he wasn’t going to do that anymore, that he’d stay home with me next time. He’d be super nice with me for a week and the cycle would start again. I tried telling his mom and try to get her to intervene, to talk to him. She never really did, it’s like she thinks I make this up. She doesn’t really see a problem, she says he pays his bills, but he started missing work and that’s when she noticed. He’s gotten worse and since I’m the one living with him, I see the worst of it. He’s tried strangling me, pushing me, slapped me while he’s coked out. The next day he doesn’t apologize and tries to be all nice to me and expects me to hug and kiss him as if nothing ever happened. He lies to himself about using, he lies to me about where’s he’s at and who’s he with. I wouldn’t doubt if he has cheated on me too.

His personality has changed a whole lot, he no longer has any goals, he is not in school and he is working for a drug dealer too. I think the drug dealer is making his addiction worse. On my birthday party he even offered my dad some coke! He didn’t come home to sleep for the first time. It seems like no one cares but me. Well I won’t let this go on any further, I’ve had enough! I am getting out of here, for my baby and my own good. He has lied to me for the last time, hurt me for the last time, and I refuse to cry over him… for the last time it’s over. He won’t stop…he won’t…

-someone

Submit your own cocaine addiction story.

Just like “someone” did.

So I found this site by searching cocaine stories.

Because I wonder what people go through and how there lives are affected. Personally I think the stories are deep. Hard to finish reading and knowing what’s going to happen. But only way to know is to keep going. I do cocaine quit often and I’m always thinking of doing some drug or getting it. I’m a quite calm person but I’m not slopy. I can control myself easily. But except when I’m doing cocaine. Like once I do it I keep doing it. But when it’s all gone I start thinking. And I go into a mood where I’m saying I’m going to straightin up but I keep making the wrong decisions. Really hard to explain. But maybe someone will understand.

I made a bad decision letting my friend try it and he’s keep saying “Dude I’m think I’m going to do this every day now. I love it.” I’m just sitting there just thinking what a mess I am.

-jesse7832

Submit your own cocaine addiction story.

Just like jesse7832 did.

I sat hugging my knees on the steps of the library. That stupid sandwich truck was late again. I probably should complain, they came by every night and they gave for free but that night I was starving. I’d been coked up for 2 days and now it was wearing off. I was hungry, cold and getting into a terrible mood. For a moment, I let my thoughts wander and I wondered about my kids.

I have 2 kids. I have a little girl 5, and a boy, 3. When my habit got bad I left them with my mom. At least they would be fed and taken care of which is more than I can give them on the streets. All I’d have to do is show up and tell my mom that I’m ready to do rehab. Where the hell is that sandwich truck? I saw someone I knew (and suspected may know how to get some coke) and ran down to meet them. No luck finding any. It was not going to be a good night. I could tell already.

I saw people starting to gather near the street and I fell in line. Dinner must be rolling up. I guess it was nice of these people to do this but by then I was in such a bad mood I pretty much barked out an order.

“Two sandwiches, hot chocolate” I said tensely. “Oh, and do you have any blankets?”

Lucky me, they did so I got my food, drink and my warmth for the night. I didn’t eat that food, I inhaled it. In fact, I wished I had more. It was time to stake my claim for some real estate for the night.

I found a fairly secluded spot and wrapped up in the blanket. My head hurt and I knew it was going to get worse. I began mumbling to myself and I knew that the sweating would begin soon. At that moment, all I wanted was to shoot up. All I wanted was enough to give me a buzz for a few minutes. It was always “just one more” with me. I started trembling and I suspected it was more from lack of drugs than the cold.  How many times would I detox myself only to go right back to shooting up? Then I heard a familiar voice saying “Hey there, sweetie.  Looks like you could use a little help.” One more…just one more…