My marriage didn’t last too long – nothing I could put my finger on. Things that my wife kept making a fuss about seemed pretty pointless to me. I lost interest in sex, stopped jogging round the park. Was drinking a few cans of beer a day – my psychiatrist said I had anhedonia.

I remember one evening in front of the tv I saw a vein pulsing in my wife’s neck in the soft glow from the screen. I rapidly calculated how to best to shift myself over to stop the pulse in the artery. It was a shock when I came to myself and realized that I had just made a field assessment on my wife.

One day I was complaining at my mother’s house. She was a widow now. She simply said if it will help you out – come and live with me. So I moved in with my mother and things worked out quite well. She doesn’t mind how much beer I drink as long as I put the empty cans in the sink for her rinse through and recycle.

Was one incident early on when mother tipped a full bottle of scotch whiskey into the kitchen sink. When I realized what she’d done – I grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her around to face me. Don’t ever do that again I growled – and for emphasis followed it up with – and that’s a direct order. It was about this time that I started to use cocaine with a group of ex army pals – this incident with mother had confused me – I didn’t want issues between us about whiskey drinking again.

I don’t use coke as much as I drink beer – I usually find beer is quite soothing. Sometimes though it doesn’t do anything for me and I start feeling agitated, and aggressive. Doing cocaine seems to give me a handle on things when alcohol doesn’t work.

The other day my little sister sprung a surprise on me – she said that my brothers and sisters had clubbed together for my birthday – and had already paid for me to go into a holistic residential rehab facility.

Well, I said – I have already seen enough trick cyclists in my life – one or two more won’t kill me. What is on offer at this place – antipsychotics for breakfast or sedated ECT?

My sister said that she really did not know much about it, they say it’s a talking therapy. I laughed – oh it will be something like the articles that they get me to write up for the RSL magazine – all about heroes and villains – the power and the glory.

Funnily enough I had often started to write some really interesting stuff about my own wartime experiences when writing up these articles. Had to throw them in the bin of course – no way they would ever get published. Even though I had to throw them away, I always felt better after I wrote down some of what really happened – it got it out of my system.

So, I said to my little sister – ok I’ll go in next week. Not exactly busy at the moment – it will give me something to do.

My ex was a very successful, handsome attorney. Graduated from college and law school with high honors. I was a young college student when I met him out on the town one night with my girlfriends. He was relentless at trying to get my phone number. I toyed with him all night waiting/hoping he would get tired of me and go away. I just wasn’t interested having just broken up with my boyfriend. He didn’t go away – instead he melted my heart with his sheepish grin and I gave him my number. There began a breathtaking romance that my roommate said made me “glow”. He drank moderately and smoked an occasional joint. He exercised and took great care of himself — gave me grief for smoking. Within a few months he talked marriage and babies. I was very happy with him but it was all happening so fast, i told him i wasn’t ready…he was sad, he was 9 yrs older and ready..took it as a rejection. He began pulling away..I tried to bring him back …had a revelation,told him i was ready for marriage now, babies..but he was no longer interested…thus began the torturous part of our story.

I tried like hell to get him back…we would have crazy coincidental meetings..a phone call here and there, maybe a dinner..but he was moving on. My sometimes desperate attempts to reach him were met with occasional cruelty. He would set up a date only to cancel or stand me up. He would dangle the carrot only to yank it away. Slowly eroding my self-esteem..my friends and family hated him and were disappointed in my apparent lack of pride. I knew he was playing me but I couldn’t let go.

Years went by and i slowly moved on..got involved in a church..still had crazy coincidental run-ins with him..always excited to see him but much less hopeful about any reconciliation. 7 yrs after we met, he invited me to a bbq..brought a friend with me..he acted like a jerk. Constantly running into the bathroom, wasted..not being a great host. I was stunned..who was this guy? His friends were different…not like his friends when we were dating years ago. They were kinda…trashy. didn’t really see him much after that…fast forward 1 yr..he saw me at a large party..came up to me upset saying “we had to talk”. I left with him…kinda excited..but cautious. Got in his car and he immediately wanted to do cocaine. AAArgh, told him to stop the car and let me out. Told me he was kidding and convinced me to stay.. he then began to pour his heart out..he said he was “messed up”. I stroked his hair and said “no sweetie, you’re ok”. Back at his townhouse, he threw up. Acted nonchalant about it. Showed me a gun he had purchased…poured out his heart some more, said he was a loner..but said he and i had a bond. thought we made a connection again that night but he was back to his old tricks…setting up dates and cancelling them. About a month later, he left an odd sounding voicemail for me..he had bought a house and wanted me to see it..said i would love it. Never followed through on it though. A few weeks later i took a job across the country. I never said good-bye or let him know i was leaving. I thought he didn’t care and I needed to finally close this chapter. On my last day as i was driving to the airport, I passed him coming towards me in the opposite direction. He was fidgeting in his seat like he couldn’t get comfortable. He didn’t see me and that was the last time i ever saw him. I erased him from my mind..made all new friends who never heard of this guy and all my heartache over him. It was so nice to start fresh.

Fast forward 13 yrs..got curious and googled him. Found out he died 6 months after I left town. Called the county morgue — acute cocaine toxicity. They said he had been “found”. I was an innocent…had no idea he was hooked on cocaine. Now I can’t believe I didn’t realize it. I’ve cried and cried over the news. I am heartbroken. So for all you addicts who see loved ones leave your side…they still love you. And they always will…they just have to protect themselves.

I’m telling you this from a hospital bed – they thought I’d never make it. I’m keeping myself alive by thinking about what I’ll do to Snake when I get out of this place. Reckon I might chop him up and put him through a mincer – mince pies – Snake’s eyes – laughing, laughing, laughing at me.

What’s that you say – just get on with the story. Well yeah – wasn’t long before I felt really weird man like I was turned into some kind of robot. I felt like real powerful, like I could do anything – walking down the street, I could see the fear in people – keeping out of my way like they knew by instinct I was someone real special – someone not to be messed with. Next thing I know, I wake up in hospital. Next time I see Snake I’ll mess with him for getting me into this place.

I decided what to do – discharge myself from the hospital and then go round and kick his head in. What’s that they were saying – that I’m on a criminal charge arising from assault – and if they don’t make it then I’ll be charged with murder. Murder, murder, homicide – I think I will commit suicide – but not before I get out of here and put a stranglehold on Snake. Snakes a disgrace – if anyone needs to be murdered, it’s Snake for feeding me bad coke.

So, anyhow, I start to get up from that hospital bed, pushing this visitor who keeps asking me questions out of the way. Suddenly find I am surrounded by staff and one is holding up a hypodermic needle. As one of them puts in the needle, another one says to me – to avoid this situation from happening again – you need to be informed that you are not in psychiatric emergency now – you are in our maximum security ward for those who we consider to be criminally insane. I felt something break inside my head, and then the lights went down.

The guy I apparently hit didn’t die. One day I was drugged up and taken to a courtroom –don’t know much what happened there but I got brought back here. No, not doing time, just here they tell me at the judge’s discretion. So here I am just biding my time and keeping myself alive thinking of what I’m going to do to Snake when I get out of this place.

I felt my heart racing, best thing I could think of was go up and buy something. I stood a bit behind Fritzy so he would have to turn round to see who was making a fuss of mooching in their purse. Well turn around he did… I moved so close that our bodies were touching. We arranged to meet up later, I promised to get some C.

I was Fritzy’s .…moved in with him later the same week – me and Fritzy and C  – sometimes I didn’t get to work and had to call in sick – nothing else mattered to me. Fritzy would go off to work and I would just hang around all day, waiting for Fritzy and C. One day my old flat mate called in – with a letter from the shop and a final pay check. Gill looked around our flat with a bit of a twitch in her nose – do you want me to help you clean up a bit – I could help you wash some of the dishes. I said not to worry, I would do it later, and so she said that she would go.

One month I missed my period. I did a test and it came out positive. In all the months I had been with Fritzy it was the first thing that made me sit up and think. Deep down in my brain was this awful thought – I could do cocaine with Fritzy and me, but not to a new baby. All day I sat there in a huddle, and smoked endless cigarettes – I didn’t know what to do. I was so tempted to start using before Fritzy came home, I never did that before. Fritzy was late from the pub that night so I called Gill on the phone – help me Gill, I said – I’m so scared – I’m going to have a baby. Gill’s voice was cool she just said that they had a new flat mate now – might be best if I went home to Mom. I never felt so alone.

Fritzy came home midnight straight to bed and to sleep. Around three in the morning I was so tempted to use but a small voice inside said No! I got out the phone book – I was going to get rehab – I knew it was now or never. Three calls in a row thanked me for my call – ring back business hours. I toyed with the drugs in one hand and the telephone in the other. One more try and then… but a warm voice answered my call – I burst into tears, said I’m doing cocaine but I’ve got to stop for my baby. As soon as Fritzy had gone to work, I took all Fritzy’s money that he kept around the flat and booked myself into rehab.

That was a long time ago – I’m not saying it was easy but it’s still Fritzy, me and C. –Chad starts kindy next week with a Mom and Dad he can be proud of – 100% drug free!.

As I said my name is Graeme. Pretty much an ordinary sort of guy –had a house in the surburbs, car and two kids – you know what I mean – I was even mowing the front lawn at weekends. Weekends -used to drive me mad really -one Saturday night at my parents, the other at my in laws.

Seemed to me I had no say, no rights in my own house but I wasn’t bothered about that too much. I was busy enough at work making a living to feed their hungry mouths, pay the school fees and a second mortgage. You would think that the family would have given me more help but that’s another story. – I guess I was pretty angry about it all inside – but I wasn’t bothered about it too much – I suppose you could catch the scent of burning martyr (me) coming from our house.

One day Jack (the Ripper we used to call him in college) called me up at work and we decided to go for a drink. It was quite a posh bar by my standards though I never went out for drinks with anyone any more. Jack was in fine form and I was impressed when a real high quality girl came over to Jack making no secret of their intimacy. After a few cuddles and squeezes, the lovely lady was gone and Jack and me kept on talking. When it was time to leave, Jack urged me to come with him to the can and I was shocked to see him use cocaine. Wanna come on to the party he said, but I grimly shook my head – curfew was at midnight in my house, this one night I was off the leash. I think Jack saw the anger, the resentment, the enviousness in my eyes – he wrote down a note of the lady’s phone number. Give her a call sometime he said – that’s if you want to make a connection.

All the week I mentally rehearsed the fantasy of calling the lady’s number. I never would of course, except that of all things my wife and kids were going with her parents the following week for a family holiday. I had not been home more than a few minutes the day they went away – I gave the lady a call – the rest is history.

Five years later I still do cocaine almost every day, I don’t know what I’m going to do when my share of the divorce settlement money is finished. Some of Jack’s mates call me a pretty boy but that’s the last thing I would want to do. The job I had literally went up in smoke when I got caught using cocaine at work. That bastard the boss after all my hard work – earning him profits for years – wouldn’t even give me a reference. In fact he said he was glad to have an excuse at last to get rid of a layabout worker without risk of an unfair dismissal claim. I was marched out of the building late the same after noon – with people staring at me, in between two of the biggest security guards I have ever seen.

I’ve never really been in trouble about my cocaine use – this is probably because I am not really a cocaine addict, just a regular user. Probably when I run out of money, I will decide to stop.

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.

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

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.

C.P.

Sincerely,

Jennifer B.