Cocaine Addiction

I’ve always felt a mystical influence over me – something unexplored out there waiting  - if only I knew the key, the code to open it up. It’s like having an extra room in your house – behind a bricked up wall – no doorway, no access but you know it is there.

Had a happy enough childhood with two loving parents. I was about fifteen when this extra dimension in my life kept coming up in my mind. It made me feel agitated, oppressed, I wanted to be free, get into this new potential but it kept on eluding me.

Sometimes in the mornings when I was half awake, I could feel myself drifting, approaching that mysterious unknown zone, as if I was flying high above clouds, starting to feel free. Then I would get called to breakfast, told it was time to get up – more like coming down for me. I clung to those images of approaching freedom and escape for as long as I could until at last I was fully awake.

I was about fifteen and starting to feel some pressure – had to be a good team player, get good marks in exams – used to like going to school and sport – but not any more with this pressure. Big decisions that would have consequences for the rest of my life – whether to go out with girls, have sex, leave school and earn some money, whether to do drugs, drink beer, stay at school and go to college. Yeah – this pressure was there. Like it or not, I was growing up. With average grades, no sense of direction, I had no idea where I was headed.

But for so many years I’d had this idea that destiny had plans for me – when the time was right. So I was starting to feel a bit angry, agitated as time passed. I could feel this destiny but couldn’t get a handle on it.

I was special, I was important – not for me endless days, a factory hand making pool tables, or fixing cars at the local garage – no, somewhere out there was something better but I didn’t know how to reach it.

Then one weekend round at my mates, we all tried smoking grass – not that I particularly cared to do it, but I wanted to be in with the crowd. And wow that shit really blew my mind – I never expected that. It was like I was already there – half way to my destiny. It made me feel so relaxed, so calm, took out all my tension. I felt relaxed like never before.

So intense was that feeling, it lasted me all of the week – and by the weekend I was asking around if anyone had weed, and bought my first marijuana early that Saturday night.

Over the months I virtually dropped out of school, hung around with kids that did nothing much but smoke pot and make some money from drugs. One night, I tried cocaine and that was it for me – cocaine was what I had been searching for, the answer to everything.

My parents started to hassle me, tried to keep me in at nights, said the school was complaining that I hadn’t showed up for weeks. I said I wasn’t interested in going back to school, I was happy doing things my way, told them to butt out of my life.

Next thing I got taken to counseling, I was asked what problems I had, and looked back at the counselor like I didn’t read the question. I don’t have any problems I said, life was going just fine – hanging out with the crowd, and no, I didn’t want to go back to school – there was nothing there for me. I had a destiny to find.

So, the counselor delved deeper, wondered if I had any issues, perhaps to do with my adoption – did I get on well with my parents. Of course, I said , none better – until this thing about drugs came up, they have been easy – I think they are the best parents ever. No problems there at all.

So, the counselor frowned, and gave me a long hard stare – so, if everything is ok – give up your drugs, get back to school and stop causing your parents this heartbreak and worry.

I suddenly roused up – looked the counselor square in the face – “They are not, I said, my real parents – and I have my own life to live”. About my real parents, I said, I don’t know, never been told anything.  I guess it was for a special reason that they had to let me go – otherwise how could a parent give up their child into the hands of strangers. Sometimes I think that they are around somewhere – waiting for me to come into my special destiny. Perhaps if I get famous enough they will return and recognize me. Next thing the interview was over, they said call back in a month, we’ll try and fit you in.

They tell me you are different, you can get me off cocaine, that I’ll never come into my destiny if I’m snorting up cocaine. Cocaine doesn’t work for me like it did before – but it helps me with my anger – gets me through the day. Yeah, ok – perhaps this anger is a problem -  I’m thinking about it way too much. Sometimes I think I’d like to blow up half the town. But this sauna treatment sounds great – I need a decent sleep. Best thing it’s away from the folks – I need that most of all. Any chance we could meet and talk while I’m here – about my real parents? I’m tired – of chasing the dragon.

Hi, I’m Bryan, a former cocaine addict – this is my story.

Too often advice is given from outsiders to the problem – well meaning friends trying to get me to stop using cocaine, only annoyed me.

Cocaine addiction is not a problem for the addict, but a resolution. I had issues in my life, that I thought I had under control when I was using cocaine. Anyone who tries to break the cycle of cocaine addiction will arouse much fear and anxiety in the addict, about their insecurities, whether they are addicted, what it would mean to try and stop.

You will be trying to separate a drowning man from his life raft, cut a climber’s rope. From the position of the addict, if you force issues, you are no longer a friend – you are quite simply another problem that the addict doesn’t need, can’t deal with in his life. Keep up the pestering, the addict will leave, or turn on you and attack.

The cocaine addict can’t bear separation from cocaine – you arouse this fear, and the addict will turn it back on you. You will be made to feel all of the anxiety, the guilt, shame and pain that the addict feels, as if it was all your fault. The more you intrude, the more defensive the addict becomes. The more he will try and make you or other people seem to be the cause of all his problems.

Faced with this unfair burden, let’s face it, most friends flee in righteous indignation and horror – how could he act that way,  how could he say these things to me?

Unfair perhaps, but it does the job, and gets the preacher off your back. I had so many relationships – they always ended with me blaming them for my problems as soon as they tried to get too close, and push cocaine away.

Friends are enablers, can be used, can be relied upon to help you out, any time, day or night – they can be bought, paid and paid off, with favors or with money.

No friends are ever trusted completely, only good for the moment, almost expected to betray, The only reliable thing in my life was cocaine. Understand that I never saw cocaine as being a problem – cocaine was the answer, a complete solution.

So, what helped me, to get off cocaine, make the decision to stop. I had a true friend who didn’t give in, didn’t give up on me. Met her, wooed her, she didn’t use and didn’t know that I did. Truth is I was tired, spent and looking for a safe haven, an enabler, who would love me, keep me and put up with my habit. Lovers we became.

On letting her discover my habit, she said that she still loved me, and I felt reassured. She provided facts and information about why cocaine was bad, and wasn’t unduly upset when I told her to stop harassing me.

She didn’t give in and call up work when I didn’t want to go – told me to tell them myself, and handed me the phone. Told me that if I didn’t like the job, there were plenty more on offer, but I had to work – she didn’t intend to keep me. She always listened to my problems – let me say what was on my mind – never offered solutions, made me think about my issues.

Made me pay my fair share of the house expenses – said I would have to get out if the house if expenses were not first call on my money. This sometimes left me short for coke. I wanted to get out, find someone more co-operative, but I managed – and I stayed.

Then I was tempted, stole the money that she kept for the rent. She said she would give me one more chance – and I thought, from past experience I had gotten lucky – an enabler, at last.

So, it was quite a shock to find that next time I got home, there was a group in the living room, my girlfriend and two counselors from an alternative drug program.

This, said Maggie, is your chance – hear what these people have to say – then you make your decision. I have talked to you, trusted you, it’s not enough. These people understand. I hope you make the right decision, as I love you very much.

So, I turned on these guys with anger – what’s this emotional stuff, why do I have to get treatment – I am doing fine.

We talked. Maggie made coffee – these guys drank water. They had something I didn’t fathom, nothing I said got them roused up – like I fully intended.

I said I would think about it all. Maggie said – you go with them – or you walk out the door alone – it doesn’t matter to me.

Ah, but I thought you said you loved me! Yes, said Maggie – that I do, but I’m not putting up with your drug behavior for another minute.

That struck a note with me – that I was respected as a person – not condemned as a useless person, a no good drug addict – with no responsibility.

Suddenly, I wanted responsibility. I wanted to be strong, to have a life without drugs – to have what Maggie and these counselors had. I packed a bag, shook Maggie’s hand, and went with them to rehab.

Funny, the idea I had was to beat my cocaine habit, and come back to Maggie like a conquering hero. By the time I sorted out my issues, I felt more like I needed the forgiveness of all the people I’d wronged. So, I started with Maggie, asked her to take me in – and with a look of sheer contentment she said, yes Bryan, of course – it’s good to see you back.

I waited a couple of weeks to pick up the containers from the freight yard, shipped in as whey product for body building – too easy, I loaded them into the boot, and out to the storage unit, back of the townhouse – one I was short term renting, out of town, didn’t want to bring this business close to the family home.

Too easy, I stretched back on the bed, feeling the most relaxed I had been for weeks -  the whole thing had really shot my nerves – end of the day, I’m a user not a dealer where cocane is involved.

Yeah, so I was lying back wondering whether to split – trust the boys to do the pick up without me being involved – do a line, get back home – like nothing had ever happened. But it wasn’t to be. A knock on the door – that wasn’t in the plan – open up, police, they were saying.

It felt so unreal, I couldn’t believe this was happening – decided to bluff it through. If only I’d been less needy for coke this would never have happened. If they found the jars, it was no risk, they weren’t connected to me – imported under a fake id – circumstantial evidence. I opened the door, kept my cool, asked if there was a problem. Next thing I knew I was at the station, charged with knowingly importing a commercial quantity of cocaine, precisely $2.3 million.

Thirty minutes down at central, my world was falling apart – customs had seized the consignment – what I’d picked up from the yard was a quantity of baking soda, put in to make up the weight. To add insult to injury, rub salt in the wound, they also decided to charge me for 200 grams that I had in my car.

On legal advice, I decided to plead guilty, at the first opportunity – the lawyer reckoned everyone would be happier that way, and it would give him an opportunity to emphasize my remorse. Remorse over what I could not figure – that I had got caught? Importing cocaine is a victimless crime.

Besides, I had to do it – got coke on credit from a friend – had a $1,000 a week habit – got in too deep, couldn’t pay up – doing the import was the trade off. The lawyer said if he got it right, the judge would sympathize – see me as a victim of my addiction, an unwilling pawn, that got nothing out of the import except a write off of my drug debt. He would spin a tale as well, about how it was my intention to do a stint of rehab

But I got unlucky, got the only judge still in the dark ages as far as drug rehab goes – would prefer to lock drug dealers up and throw away the key. Took 2 years off the standard 15 and gave me a baker’s dozen. The lawyer wants to appeal, but I can’t afford the fee.

My wife upped and left, took the kids and all of the family money that her father had put into the marriage, with something extra for the maintenance that she would not otherwise be getting out of me. She took all the furniture, took the best car, leaving mine to get re-possessed along with the business that I had downtown that was doing fine until then.

They have these counselors come down to the prison, they keep trying to make me see that importing coke is a wrong thing to do – say it will help with parole, but I don’t get it. It’s my business what I do with my life – my wife and kid’s never suffered.

They talk about decriminalizing marijuana – I reckon they should do cocaine as well. There’s over 25 million people in the USA tried coke at least once in their life – and a million new users come into the market every year while there’s around 2 million people using it at the moment. People can say no to coke, if they don’t want to use it, just like marijuana – no one forces it on you.

Yeah, there’s only one counselor ever asked me how I got into coke, and that’s somewhere I don’t go. Just one in twenty five million that didn’t want to stop – no, coke was not a problem, it was getting caught with the importing that did it in for me.

So now I’ve got ten years or more, my life stretched out before me -  I’m wondering what my chances are of getting coke in here – if I start getting really depressed reckon I’m going to need it. At first I didn’t want to use, in case I got increased time – but the days I get depressed – guess I’d be happy to stay here forever – just so long as I get the coke.

It is a quote from Nietzsche’s Beyond Good and Evil – when you look long into the abyss, the abyss looks back into you, words that I happened to read one day, on a desk calendar, of all places. I often flicked through the quotes and wise sayings – like other people read their horoscopes, I suppose, looking for inspiration, some sort of motto that might inspire my life but I never found anything that gripped me – the only quote that I ever remembered was that one by Nietzsche. And it started me on a journey where I ended up staring into my own abyss – ready to plunge into it – oblivion – but fate had other plans, I’m pleased to say. This is something of my story.

I was a student, from a country town. I had come to the city on a scholarship that covered fees, tuition, but didn’t cover all you need to live in a city. I got digs that I shared – 6 of us to a room, cheap enough – I had to study in the library til it closed – a cold, dark, lonely walk home, if that is what you could call it.

Yes, I was homesick for my family, but I was their pride – had to go through with it, get results. Holidays I didn’t have enough money to go home, so I hung out with whoever was in the the lodgings – soon got introduced to drugs – everyone was using something – I tried dope and coke.

I was studying about social issues, that was my scholarship, I was probably too young to be taking in all that human misery that was social history – I started to feel depressed about everything, but always I heard my mothers voice – hoping that I would do well. So, using coke sparingly, I kept myself going – applied myself to my study – became a model student with virtually no interests outside of my studies. End of year, I passed the exams, went home to congratulations – was more aware than ever before of the social problems in my hometown.

So I got to feeling that I was somehow lost – didn’t fit in with the city – had grown apart from the people at home – in a sort of no man’s land, duty bound to go back to the city and study for two more years. I decided to get better accomodation next time I went back to the city, by getting a part time job. Getting myself completely involved in my studies seemed to relieve my depression. Having more money from the job meant I started using more coke – I thought I was happy enough.

One evening late and walking home I was set upon, robbed of my shoes, my coat, the little money I had, needed to go to the doctor to check out my ribs, that were sore for weeks.

I started to have anxiety attacks for no apparent reason, stopped staying late at the library, went home with the crowd. Mostly went to sleep unless I used some coke – found it difficult to concentrate on the lectures. My mind kept going back to the night I was attacked – I must have gone through that night, relived it a hundred times.

Then my tutor called me in, said I wasn’t making the grade, asked if anything was wrong, but I said I was ok, just a few personal problems. He said he would have to give me a fail for the last paper I sent in, but I could do it again, and he would re-assess my grade. I felt the bottom drop out of my world – I couldn’t see that he was trying to help – try as I might I couldn’t get down to doing that paper again, and suddenly it was due the next day – I hadn’t done a thing.

I knew where to go, I knew the answer – it had recently been in the papers – people with no one and nothing to live for – went to Lover’s Leap. Encased in gloom, beyond thought, I trudged through the cold, dark streets, slowly walked up the gravel track, leaving behind me the lights of the city. I jumped the fence and went to the edge – looking down into the abyss. Just as I was about to give in, allow myself to fall, a hand clamped on my shoulder – Hey, sonny, there’s a strong cup of tea, back at my place if you want it.

It turned out that this man lived only a few hundred yards from the Lover’s Leap – had become a sort of self appointed guardian of the troubled people who came there – that night he changed my destiny, and recommended a drug program that would really sort things out.

Last week I enrolled for a different course – electrical engineering – and will be sharing a room with one of the other students. I feel excited about the future – -now that I’ve been there and faced the abyss, I know that I will never go back there.

that’s what we are.  No, its not heroin, but we are drug addicts all the same – it just costs more.  And we can probably still manage to string a sentence together.  Addiction is the devils work, cocaine the devils dust, evil.  Its brings nothing but eventual heartache.

I don’t even know what to say. It’s been 10 years of party – weekends – when it’s bad in the week. But I tell myself – it’s okay. I can handle it. I’ve succeeded in everything – but emptiness prevails. I search for the high. The hight that is now clearly fogging my future, my being, my being a focused parent. Why is it that everything I have, I’ve worked for, I’ve loved, I’ve travelled and 100% sacrificed for – not good enough. I still want the escape. The high does not exist. That happened maybe first two times. I know who I am. This is not it. For the first time I am scared. Money down the drain – parties really not that much fun. But without it I feel bored. I need out. I need out before it’s too late. If not already. I see signs – signs of dependency. But not of addiction – of boredom. I’m afraid because no matter how high I climb, or how happy I potentially am – it is not good enough. Or worthy or exciting enough. When is it enough? When it’s too late?

I’ve had enough and I don’t know how to stop. I find society, life, my day-to-day so tedious without the high. And I know it’s enough now. I want more in life. I’m tired of the hangovers, the days sleeping, the nights speaking shit to people and making commitments that I won’t keep tomorrow. It’s not me. I’ve had bad relationships – because of this. I’ve skipped work and lied many a time – become a professional lier – disappointed my daughter – not been the best that I know that I can be. The worst is -I get to moments where I feel I don’t care anymore. Not about life – I love life. I don’t care about love. I don’t believe anymore. I feel like everyone around me  is just another story – another day.

I don’t want this anymore. I have had enough. How do I stop?

I’ve gone far enough – but how do I stop? I’m scared. My limits have arrived. But I feel like I’m going down heel and funny thing is – I’m in the best place I’ve been in a long time.

I am bored. The drugs are taking me to a place where I do not want to be.

Help. I want to be a better person.

Geoff was a mild mannered office clerk, a Walter Mitty type, (see reference) who often dreamed of being someone, making something of himself. He often found himself attending at the theater, seeing himself in the role of the leading characters – dashing, brave heroes surrounded by a bevy of adoring females. One day after a matinee performance that ended all too soon, Geoffrey saw a notice pinned on the theater wall calling for males to play walk on parts in an upcoming production. He panicked with fear, but managed to knock softly on the back stage door. He left with a glow of satisfaction, to return next week for the start of rehearsals.

Geoff takes up the story – I became so deeply involved with theatre, I didn’t want to leave, it wasn’t long before people were joking that it was like I was part of the furniture. After some time, I got in with a few players who used cocaine. I was cautious but found it to be a powerful experience that I got to look forward to enjoying at weekends, for me it was the answer to a mundane, dreary life, cocaine and theater life filled up my life and my dreams.

Without the cocaine I don’t think that I would have ever done anything more than a minor role, I was secretly scared to death before every real performance when I had to go out in front of a real audience, but once I moved into the glow of the lighting on the stage – my fear and the audience melted away – I became the part that I played.

I needed cocaine to give me courage when a leading role came up that the director thought I was a natural for. Brimming with a confidence that I didn’t feel, he urged me to read the script and present for the audition. Fueled with cocaine I read the part, fueled with cocaine I made the audition, and needed more cocaine to settle my nerves when the director said I’d got it.

The next weeks were a blur to me, I was often asked at work if anything was wrong. When I returned a vacant stare, they looked at me with pity, tapped their heads and said to each other – looks like Geoffrey’s away with the fairies. Little did they know, the creative power within me, I would teach them all a lesson when the show came on.

I decided that when the programs were printed I would casually leave one in the office, then people would understand – the genius of Geoffrey. I wavered between feelings of total contentment at my secret power, and extreme performance anxiety about the demanding role.

Eventually, I went to the doctor, got some time off work, this role and the performance was starting to take over my life, but I didn’t see it as a problem – my life and role in the theater was how I wanted my life to be. I had no time for pen pushing, sitting at my desk with the production on the way. By the time I went back to my job, the programs were printed, and I left one in the staff room.

I was not prepared for what happened. I expected people to stand from afar and gaze with awe that Geoffrey was such a brilliant actor, but next thing I knew there was Cathy at my desk, one of the senior office staff – Geoffrey she screeched, why didn’t you tell us – we are going to make a booking, just about everyone wants to come, and see you in the play.

Suddenly, my stomach churned, it felt like a deep and empty pit, I felt my face burn hot, and my heart was thumping. No, I didn’t want this, I should never have told them – it was all too much.

I called the director, told him to let me off, get an understudy to do the part. I listened as he told me to get a grip – it’s only nerves he said – don’t worry, you will be alright on the night. But as the opening night approached I knew it wouldn’t work – not in front of all the people from the office, not in front of an audience. This part I played was all an illusion, I was empty inside.

But using cocaine I could get back my old feelings of power – I decided against my better judgment to use plenty of cocaine on the night, and trust it to get me through.

Lights up, the music, the last cough from a waiting audience, and all I needed to do was propel myself somehow out into those footlights and it would be ok. But nothing would budge me, I couldn’t go on. Another actor came and took me by the arm – said break a leg in a cheerful voice, and started to gently push me out onto the stage. i whipped around, and pushed him back, and went into the dressing room inconsolably depressed, to the point that I thought of committing suicide at the humiliation that I felt. I was nothing and a no one.

It was several years ago that happened and I know what got me through. The doctor told me to go back to work, it was the only thing to do, so I was going to work and using each night to maintain a sort of stability – then I saw a drug program that offered addiction recovery.

I reached out, they took me in like I was a drowning man, but man, what a life raft it turned out to be. It sorted out my life completely – now I have a group of friends and a lady who is special and when they have a good play on at the theater – we are the first in line.