ADDICTION SERIES
I wrote this series for The Journal in 2009 in an effort to explore the topic of addiction from different perspectives. I conducted interviews with addicts and their family members, exploring their experiences with addictions such as sex, gambling, food, drugs and alcohol. Scroll down to read through all ten accounts. A resource guide is provided at the end for addicts or family members of addicts.
I wrote this series for The Journal in 2009 in an effort to explore the topic of addiction from different perspectives. I conducted interviews with addicts and their family members, exploring their experiences with addictions such as sex, gambling, food, drugs and alcohol. Scroll down to read through all ten accounts. A resource guide is provided at the end for addicts or family members of addicts.
Addiction is typically said to affect one's psychological, physical and spiritual self. Some view it as a lack of willpower, others are convinced it's a disease. Although there are a variety of treatment options, there is no one sure answer for everyone and without the addict reaching out for help, no recovery is possible. This series seeks to shed light on addiction by telling the stories of those affected by it: the addicts, their spouses, their children and their extended family. Asterisks denote pseudonyms, used at the request of some subjects.
Wife of sex addict conveys a marriage of discovery, effort and loss
“I have been married to a sex addict for 34 years,” says Anne,* now 56, “although I didn't figure out a title for what he was doing for many years.”
“We are in the process of a divorce and I have chosen this path due to his most recent incident. My husband was accused of having sex with one of his high school students, who alleges to be pregnant,” she says. “Unfortunately, this is not the first occurrence with a student.”
Anne says she and her husband have spent years in counseling and she is an 11-year veteran of support groups. “It took years of Al-Anon and Codependents Anonymous meetings to figure out the scope of his addiction,” she says. “These meetings are for anyone involved with an addict and it has saved my sanity.”
His first affair was with his student, according to Anne. “We had been married two years and had a one-year-old daughter,” she says. “The next known affair was after we had three more children. Our youngest child was one year old when he was criminally charged with indecent acts with two female students. He was later found not guilty in a trial by jury.”
Anne says her husband repeatedly sought out new relationships to conquer. “The hunt is a big part of the process he goes through. The secrets involved made it very exciting. Getting over on loved ones was a big bonus,” Anne says.
She has tried to help her husband. “We have been in marital counseling, gone to a psychiatrist, tried getting help in church, and he has even tried Sexaholics Anonymous,” she says. “Our family doctor also tried to have my husband placed in a recovery hospital for addicts like him.”
“Two years ago, he chose a new subject,” says Anne of her husband. “This was obvious when he started hiding his cell phone and taking mysterious trips outside to use it. He has made over a thousand calls to this one woman in the past two years, which is plainly obvious from our cell phone bills. He also had numerous calls from old flames and new girls.”
“Then he started trolling on Craig's List," Anne adds. "He began soliciting relationships with males as was discovered when he left his AOL account open several times. When all of this new information surfaced, I moved out of our bedroom. We then found a way to have a working relationship here on our farm. We were no longer husband and wife, just roommates.”
One of the saddest outcomes are the four grown children “who will always be jaded with their own relationships,” reflects Anne. “After this last incident, they will not see or communicate with their father. He's had too many chances to turn his life around." Anne says she has always been open with her children about all aspects of their father's illness in hopes they will not repeat his mistakes.
“I have been very fortunate to have great children who support me,” she says. “Also I have been blessed with a great career. I taught for thirty years in Virginia, then retired and started teaching again here in West Virginia. All of this has helped sustain me over the years.”
Anne knew with this last incident that she would not continue any longer. “He has produced two out-of-wedlock children. We are still paying child support on one who is 16. The other one was adopted. If this new student is pregnant, I would be 74 at the end of 18 years of child support. I just can't do it any more. He is too high risk,” she says.
“There is only hope for an addict who wants help,” adds Anne. “He has never wanted it badly enough.”
“I have been married to a sex addict for 34 years,” says Anne,* now 56, “although I didn't figure out a title for what he was doing for many years.”
“We are in the process of a divorce and I have chosen this path due to his most recent incident. My husband was accused of having sex with one of his high school students, who alleges to be pregnant,” she says. “Unfortunately, this is not the first occurrence with a student.”
Anne says she and her husband have spent years in counseling and she is an 11-year veteran of support groups. “It took years of Al-Anon and Codependents Anonymous meetings to figure out the scope of his addiction,” she says. “These meetings are for anyone involved with an addict and it has saved my sanity.”
His first affair was with his student, according to Anne. “We had been married two years and had a one-year-old daughter,” she says. “The next known affair was after we had three more children. Our youngest child was one year old when he was criminally charged with indecent acts with two female students. He was later found not guilty in a trial by jury.”
Anne says her husband repeatedly sought out new relationships to conquer. “The hunt is a big part of the process he goes through. The secrets involved made it very exciting. Getting over on loved ones was a big bonus,” Anne says.
She has tried to help her husband. “We have been in marital counseling, gone to a psychiatrist, tried getting help in church, and he has even tried Sexaholics Anonymous,” she says. “Our family doctor also tried to have my husband placed in a recovery hospital for addicts like him.”
“Two years ago, he chose a new subject,” says Anne of her husband. “This was obvious when he started hiding his cell phone and taking mysterious trips outside to use it. He has made over a thousand calls to this one woman in the past two years, which is plainly obvious from our cell phone bills. He also had numerous calls from old flames and new girls.”
“Then he started trolling on Craig's List," Anne adds. "He began soliciting relationships with males as was discovered when he left his AOL account open several times. When all of this new information surfaced, I moved out of our bedroom. We then found a way to have a working relationship here on our farm. We were no longer husband and wife, just roommates.”
One of the saddest outcomes are the four grown children “who will always be jaded with their own relationships,” reflects Anne. “After this last incident, they will not see or communicate with their father. He's had too many chances to turn his life around." Anne says she has always been open with her children about all aspects of their father's illness in hopes they will not repeat his mistakes.
“I have been very fortunate to have great children who support me,” she says. “Also I have been blessed with a great career. I taught for thirty years in Virginia, then retired and started teaching again here in West Virginia. All of this has helped sustain me over the years.”
Anne knew with this last incident that she would not continue any longer. “He has produced two out-of-wedlock children. We are still paying child support on one who is 16. The other one was adopted. If this new student is pregnant, I would be 74 at the end of 18 years of child support. I just can't do it any more. He is too high risk,” she says.
“There is only hope for an addict who wants help,” adds Anne. “He has never wanted it badly enough.”
Recovering gambler now helps others recover
Arnie Wexler remembers gambling for the first time around age 7 “with flipping baseball cards, pitching pennies, shooting marbles and playing pinball machines,” he says. By age 14, he was betting on sporting events and already delving into the stock market.
He remembers something irrevocably changing when he went to the racetrack for the first time on Memorial Day in 1951. "At that time in my life, I was making fifty cents an hour after school, working about 15 to 20 hours a week. But that night at Roosevelt Raceway, I had my first big win and walked out of the track with $54,” says Wexler. “Looking back, I think it was that night that changed my life. That night gave me the belief that I could be a winner from gambling and eventually become a millionaire. I can still recall that high feeling walking out of the racetrack that night.”
Underneath his euphoric feelings of victory sat another, deeper layer of feelings. “As a young kid, I always felt that everyone was better than me,” he says. “The only time I felt okay about myself was after I had a win, whether it was marbles or baseball cards or pennies.”
By the time Wexler was 17, he was already stealing to support his gambling. “It started with stealing comic books from the local candy store but before long, I was stealing money from my family to pay for gambling,” he says.
Wexler was taking the bus to the racetrack a few nights a week on a regular basis. When it was closed during the winter months, he would travel to Maryland to gamble. “I was betting on sporting events and horses daily through a bookmaker. In those days each sport had its own season. I remember calling the bookmaker one day and the only thing that was available to gamble on was hockey. I had never seen a hockey game, but bet on it anyway. It wasn't until months later when I did see my first hockey game, that I realized it was played on ice,” says Wexler.
One night he went to the racetrack and won $6,000. “I thought, ‘Wow! Another big win — the equivalent of two years’ salary,’” he says. “This reinforced my belief that I could be a winner at gambling.”
By Wexler’s early 20s, he was betting big amounts on numerous games he didn't know much about because he “needed to be in action.” He was a regular at Madison Square Garden, and even gambled on the job. “Every Tuesday when we got paid, there was a regular crap game out in the hallway,” he says. “And almost every week, I would lose my pay in this game.” To compensate, Wexler began stealing supplies and merchandise to pay for his gambling. By then, he already had a bank loan, a finance company loan and was borrowing from his coworkers.
He met his future wife. “We went to the movies for our first date but most of the rest of our dating was at the racetrack,” Wexler remembers. “We had a joint checking account to save for our wedding. She would put money in and I wouldn't because I needed to use my money for gambling. I was still looking for another big win.”
Wexler thought the “perfect place” for their honeymoon would be Las Vegas or Puerto Rico since both places had casinos, but his fiance didn't agree. “I guess she understood enough about my gambling already,” he says.
After they got married, Wexler wanted to stop gambling and just assumed he could. “Even though I wanted to stop, I realize today that I couldn't,” he says. “I needed to gamble like any drug addict needed to stick that needle in their arm, or any alcoholic needed to have that drink.”
Four weeks after getting married, Wexler spent six months in the Army Reserves. “I gambled every day, fast and furious, from placing bets by phone with the bookmaker to shooting crap and playing cards, every waking minute,” he says. “When I came home in December 1961, I owed $4,000 and didn't even have a job.”
He eventually found a job, as well as the few compulsive gamblers who also worked there. They became fast friends, playing cards during the day, and going to the racetrack at night and on weekends together. “My wife thought I was at business meetings some of these nights and all of us would lie for each other,” says Wexler.
In 1963, Wexler’s first daughter was born after his wife had been in labor for 37 hours (during which he’d gone to the racetrack twice). “When the doctor finally came out and told me that we had a baby, I asked how much she weighed. He told me 7 lbs., 1 oz. The first call I made was to the bookmaker. I bet 71 in the daily double. The next day when I picked up the newspaper, the daily double hit. I was convinced that day that God was sending me a message that I was now going to be a winner,” he says.
One year later, Wexler’s boss gave him an option to buy 500 shares of stock in the company for $7,500. Within a year, it was worth $38,000. “I lost it all within three years due to my gambling,” remembers Wexler. “My gambling was so out of control that I was stealing everything I could to stay in action. I set up a room in the factory where I worked. We played cards all day long and I started to illegally manipulate stocks in the market,” he says.
As a result of Wexler’s gambling addiction, his personal and professional life were gradually deteriorating. “I was lying about almost everything, and I would often come home and pick a fight so I could go out to gamble. Nothing else at that point in my life was more important than gambling — not my family or my job. Gambling came first,” he says.
His gambling continued to get progressively worse. Besides stealing and borrowing money from coworkers, Wexler now had three bank loans and three loans with finance companies. He owed a loan shark an amount of money equal to one year’s salary. He was involved with three different bookmakers, both working for them and betting with them.
“I directed a lot of people in my company who gambled to my bookmaker and got a piece of the action. I even got involved in a numbers operation. Between this and stealing, I was supporting my gambling,” says Wexler. “There were times I would bet 40 or 50 games on a weekend, and believe I could win them all. One weekend, just before I hit my bottom, I called a bookmaker and took a shot by betting a round robin, which amounted to about two years' salary. At that moment, if I lost that bet, there was no way I could pay it.”
“Things were getting so bad, I remember calling a bookmaker one day and being told that if I didn't bring him the money I owed him, he would not take my bet for that night,” he says. “I went home and sold our car to a neighbor.”
“By now, I wasn't going home to pick a fight with my wife. I was doing it over the phone so I wouldn't waste the trip home. Most of the time I was out gambling, but when I was home, we were constantly fighting. We had sex very rarely. When I won, I was so high I didn't need it and if I lost, I didn't want it. But there were times we had sex and my wife would say to me, "Do you hear a radio?" and of course, I would tell her she was crazy, but she wasn’t. I had a radio on under the pillow so I could listen to a game,” says Wexler.
Wexler says, “The bottom fell out of my world,” even though he still had a job and still looked okay. “I would come home from gambling and see my wife crying all the time, depressed and sick. Our daughter was four years old and I don't remember her walking or talking. I either wasn't home or when I was, my head was consumed with the gambling,” he says. “I owed 32 people an amount totaling three years’ salary. I had a life insurance policy and constantly thought about killing myself and leaving my wife and two kids the money.”
Despite how it was ruining his life, he couldn’t stop gambling. “As long as I could get my hands on some more money to stay in action, I still thought that the big win was just around the corner,” he says.
Desperate, Wexler began trying to find out where he could get drugs to sell and looking around at gas stations to rob. He was even asking people about making counterfeit money. “I was running out of options,” he says.
The beginning of the end began. “My boss came to me one day and told me a detective was following me and he had a report on my gambling. He knew I was betting more money than I earned and he was sure I was stealing from the company. He said if he confirmed that, he would have me arrested,” says Wexler. “Three hours later, I was stealing from the company again because I needed to go to the racetrack that night.”
Wexler next recalls driving his wife to the hospital because she was having a miscarriage. “I was wishing and praying all the way that she would die. I thought that would solve all my problems as I wouldn't have to tell her how bad things were,” he says. Wexler went to the racetrack that afternoon. When he returned to the hospital, the doctor told him his wife was in shock and had almost died.
Wexler finally stopped gambling, placing his last bet on April 10, 1968. “I thought I was the only one living the way I was living and doing the things I was doing. I found out I was not alone and that I could stop gambling with the help of the other people. I had hope for the first time,” he says.
It's been 41 years since Wexler last gambled. His family is intact, and he has everything he "ever dreamed about getting from gambling and then some.”
Since recovering, Wexler has devoted his life to helping others who have this problem and educating people on the disease of compulsive gambling. To this end, he and his wife currently operate Arnie & Sheila Wexler Associates. Together, their experience, hotline, training programs, books and speaking engagements have helped countless people and organizations help compulsive gamblers.
“Compulsive gambling is a progressive disease, much like an addiction to alcohol or drugs. In many cases, the gambling addiction is hidden until the gambler becomes unable to function without gambling, and he or she begins to exclude all other activities from their lives,” says Wexler.
“For most people, gambling is a recreational activity,” he adds. “However, for an estimated 3 to 5 percent of the general population, gambling results in addiction. Estimates as high as 25 to 30 percent of alcoholics and drug addicts are also addicted to gambling.”
“If you or someone you know or love has a gambling problem, please seek help. An excellent source for help is Gamblers Anonymous for the gambler, or Gam-Anon for the family and friends,” says Wexler.
Arnie Wexler remembers gambling for the first time around age 7 “with flipping baseball cards, pitching pennies, shooting marbles and playing pinball machines,” he says. By age 14, he was betting on sporting events and already delving into the stock market.
He remembers something irrevocably changing when he went to the racetrack for the first time on Memorial Day in 1951. "At that time in my life, I was making fifty cents an hour after school, working about 15 to 20 hours a week. But that night at Roosevelt Raceway, I had my first big win and walked out of the track with $54,” says Wexler. “Looking back, I think it was that night that changed my life. That night gave me the belief that I could be a winner from gambling and eventually become a millionaire. I can still recall that high feeling walking out of the racetrack that night.”
Underneath his euphoric feelings of victory sat another, deeper layer of feelings. “As a young kid, I always felt that everyone was better than me,” he says. “The only time I felt okay about myself was after I had a win, whether it was marbles or baseball cards or pennies.”
By the time Wexler was 17, he was already stealing to support his gambling. “It started with stealing comic books from the local candy store but before long, I was stealing money from my family to pay for gambling,” he says.
Wexler was taking the bus to the racetrack a few nights a week on a regular basis. When it was closed during the winter months, he would travel to Maryland to gamble. “I was betting on sporting events and horses daily through a bookmaker. In those days each sport had its own season. I remember calling the bookmaker one day and the only thing that was available to gamble on was hockey. I had never seen a hockey game, but bet on it anyway. It wasn't until months later when I did see my first hockey game, that I realized it was played on ice,” says Wexler.
One night he went to the racetrack and won $6,000. “I thought, ‘Wow! Another big win — the equivalent of two years’ salary,’” he says. “This reinforced my belief that I could be a winner at gambling.”
By Wexler’s early 20s, he was betting big amounts on numerous games he didn't know much about because he “needed to be in action.” He was a regular at Madison Square Garden, and even gambled on the job. “Every Tuesday when we got paid, there was a regular crap game out in the hallway,” he says. “And almost every week, I would lose my pay in this game.” To compensate, Wexler began stealing supplies and merchandise to pay for his gambling. By then, he already had a bank loan, a finance company loan and was borrowing from his coworkers.
He met his future wife. “We went to the movies for our first date but most of the rest of our dating was at the racetrack,” Wexler remembers. “We had a joint checking account to save for our wedding. She would put money in and I wouldn't because I needed to use my money for gambling. I was still looking for another big win.”
Wexler thought the “perfect place” for their honeymoon would be Las Vegas or Puerto Rico since both places had casinos, but his fiance didn't agree. “I guess she understood enough about my gambling already,” he says.
After they got married, Wexler wanted to stop gambling and just assumed he could. “Even though I wanted to stop, I realize today that I couldn't,” he says. “I needed to gamble like any drug addict needed to stick that needle in their arm, or any alcoholic needed to have that drink.”
Four weeks after getting married, Wexler spent six months in the Army Reserves. “I gambled every day, fast and furious, from placing bets by phone with the bookmaker to shooting crap and playing cards, every waking minute,” he says. “When I came home in December 1961, I owed $4,000 and didn't even have a job.”
He eventually found a job, as well as the few compulsive gamblers who also worked there. They became fast friends, playing cards during the day, and going to the racetrack at night and on weekends together. “My wife thought I was at business meetings some of these nights and all of us would lie for each other,” says Wexler.
In 1963, Wexler’s first daughter was born after his wife had been in labor for 37 hours (during which he’d gone to the racetrack twice). “When the doctor finally came out and told me that we had a baby, I asked how much she weighed. He told me 7 lbs., 1 oz. The first call I made was to the bookmaker. I bet 71 in the daily double. The next day when I picked up the newspaper, the daily double hit. I was convinced that day that God was sending me a message that I was now going to be a winner,” he says.
One year later, Wexler’s boss gave him an option to buy 500 shares of stock in the company for $7,500. Within a year, it was worth $38,000. “I lost it all within three years due to my gambling,” remembers Wexler. “My gambling was so out of control that I was stealing everything I could to stay in action. I set up a room in the factory where I worked. We played cards all day long and I started to illegally manipulate stocks in the market,” he says.
As a result of Wexler’s gambling addiction, his personal and professional life were gradually deteriorating. “I was lying about almost everything, and I would often come home and pick a fight so I could go out to gamble. Nothing else at that point in my life was more important than gambling — not my family or my job. Gambling came first,” he says.
His gambling continued to get progressively worse. Besides stealing and borrowing money from coworkers, Wexler now had three bank loans and three loans with finance companies. He owed a loan shark an amount of money equal to one year’s salary. He was involved with three different bookmakers, both working for them and betting with them.
“I directed a lot of people in my company who gambled to my bookmaker and got a piece of the action. I even got involved in a numbers operation. Between this and stealing, I was supporting my gambling,” says Wexler. “There were times I would bet 40 or 50 games on a weekend, and believe I could win them all. One weekend, just before I hit my bottom, I called a bookmaker and took a shot by betting a round robin, which amounted to about two years' salary. At that moment, if I lost that bet, there was no way I could pay it.”
“Things were getting so bad, I remember calling a bookmaker one day and being told that if I didn't bring him the money I owed him, he would not take my bet for that night,” he says. “I went home and sold our car to a neighbor.”
“By now, I wasn't going home to pick a fight with my wife. I was doing it over the phone so I wouldn't waste the trip home. Most of the time I was out gambling, but when I was home, we were constantly fighting. We had sex very rarely. When I won, I was so high I didn't need it and if I lost, I didn't want it. But there were times we had sex and my wife would say to me, "Do you hear a radio?" and of course, I would tell her she was crazy, but she wasn’t. I had a radio on under the pillow so I could listen to a game,” says Wexler.
Wexler says, “The bottom fell out of my world,” even though he still had a job and still looked okay. “I would come home from gambling and see my wife crying all the time, depressed and sick. Our daughter was four years old and I don't remember her walking or talking. I either wasn't home or when I was, my head was consumed with the gambling,” he says. “I owed 32 people an amount totaling three years’ salary. I had a life insurance policy and constantly thought about killing myself and leaving my wife and two kids the money.”
Despite how it was ruining his life, he couldn’t stop gambling. “As long as I could get my hands on some more money to stay in action, I still thought that the big win was just around the corner,” he says.
Desperate, Wexler began trying to find out where he could get drugs to sell and looking around at gas stations to rob. He was even asking people about making counterfeit money. “I was running out of options,” he says.
The beginning of the end began. “My boss came to me one day and told me a detective was following me and he had a report on my gambling. He knew I was betting more money than I earned and he was sure I was stealing from the company. He said if he confirmed that, he would have me arrested,” says Wexler. “Three hours later, I was stealing from the company again because I needed to go to the racetrack that night.”
Wexler next recalls driving his wife to the hospital because she was having a miscarriage. “I was wishing and praying all the way that she would die. I thought that would solve all my problems as I wouldn't have to tell her how bad things were,” he says. Wexler went to the racetrack that afternoon. When he returned to the hospital, the doctor told him his wife was in shock and had almost died.
Wexler finally stopped gambling, placing his last bet on April 10, 1968. “I thought I was the only one living the way I was living and doing the things I was doing. I found out I was not alone and that I could stop gambling with the help of the other people. I had hope for the first time,” he says.
It's been 41 years since Wexler last gambled. His family is intact, and he has everything he "ever dreamed about getting from gambling and then some.”
Since recovering, Wexler has devoted his life to helping others who have this problem and educating people on the disease of compulsive gambling. To this end, he and his wife currently operate Arnie & Sheila Wexler Associates. Together, their experience, hotline, training programs, books and speaking engagements have helped countless people and organizations help compulsive gamblers.
“Compulsive gambling is a progressive disease, much like an addiction to alcohol or drugs. In many cases, the gambling addiction is hidden until the gambler becomes unable to function without gambling, and he or she begins to exclude all other activities from their lives,” says Wexler.
“For most people, gambling is a recreational activity,” he adds. “However, for an estimated 3 to 5 percent of the general population, gambling results in addiction. Estimates as high as 25 to 30 percent of alcoholics and drug addicts are also addicted to gambling.”
“If you or someone you know or love has a gambling problem, please seek help. An excellent source for help is Gamblers Anonymous for the gambler, or Gam-Anon for the family and friends,” says Wexler.
After three decades of DUIs, jails and rehabs, one man finds the answers to his prayers
Brad* remembers yelling at his alcoholic mother that he was “never” going be like her. That was at age 7, and he started drinking when he was 12. Within a year, he was off to the races, unable to stop.
Brad believes he started drinking because of problems from his childhood. He has a physical deformity and was self-conscious, especially as a teenager. “I always felt so different. I never felt like I belonged in the world. I never felt comfortable. I was never happy with who I was. But with alcohol, I felt better,” he says. “With alcohol, I could shut down the conscience, numb it out . . . not dealing with stuff was my way of dealing with stuff.”
“Once I began priming the pump, I had to drink until I had my fill. Quite a few times, I would come to in the morning and not know what happened,” says Brad.
Soon after he started drinking alcohol, he was introduced to drugs. “It was quiet back then,” he says of growing up in rural Maryland. “We'd carry a bong around right on the street. You wouldn’t see a car for hours sometimes.”
Brad used a lot of drugs (LSD was his favorite), but stayed away from needles somehow. “I never gravitated towards cocaine or crack, either. It was so expensive and I used it to keep me in denial. I used to think, ‘Well I'm not doing needles, so I must be okay.’ Plus, I worked hard for my money,” he says.
Repercussions started to mark the years. “I flew out the back window of a car in 1983 after we wrecked. I went 112 feet and the car was twisted. I was the worst hurt; I was a wreck,” Brad says. “That was the first accident related to alcohol. There were four of us in the car and we were all drunk, just having been to a keg party. I have a piece of gravel in my neck and it's still there, serving as a good reminder.”
The list continued. “I got busted in high school for drugs. I got a drunk-in-public ticket. I got busted for a dirty urinalysis at Navy boot camp. I fractured my ankle while drunk, then it got busted again as I was using and drinking while rehabbing,” he says.
Brad was a highly functional addict. “I was smart, worked hard, tested well and performed well despite my problems. I got out of the Navy in 1988 and started working for a power plant, but had gotten two DUIs right when I started, the second before I even had gone to court for the first. They dropped one and I pled guilty for the other. Then I got another DUI in 1989 and lost my job,” he says.
He went to a court-ordered rehabilitation center and later, went twice to other rehabs on his own accord. Brad also attended Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, which he could ride to on his bicycle. “I could stay sober for about 90 days then I'd get back into it. I would do everything they said, go to meetings, try to change people, places and things, but I never felt right,” he says.
“I was going into my thirties but I'd never grown up and been responsible. My maturity and brain was still back in my teen years,” he says. “I could never get a real grasp so I'd always go back to the alcohol.”
Over the next seven years, Brad would receive three separate drug charges — all misdemeanors — and was tired of being in and out of jail. He finally moved to West Virginia in 1996 because he knew things “weren't working” for himself. “That's why I went into the Navy initially, too, but I still always find the same kind of people, the friends I left behind, and do the same things,” he says.
He moved again to Virginia but said, “Every morning I'd get up and face the enemy. I’d look in the mirror and it was me.”
Family illness brought Brad back to West Virginia. He and his brother cared for their ailing father in Hedgesville until he passed away in 2002. “I still was drinking and using. I know now I could have done so much more, so much better.”
Brad was starting to get nervous about his drinking. “I was doing stupid things again. One night, I hit a barn in a blackout,”he remembers.
He got his fourth DUI the following year. He pled guilty but got off easy because West Virginia didn't know he'd been charged in Maryland. Brad served the mandatory 24 hours in jail and paid a fine. Weeks later, he got another DUI, but got it thrown out of court despite the video of him failing the breathalyzer test.
“I thought it was God looking out for me, but I went to a rehab program at my lawyer's recommendation,” he says.
“I knew sitting there it was just the beginning. I’d gotten three drug charges and five DUIs, and that didn't account for all the times I'd driven drunk or high. I thought, where's it going to end? I got on my knees at the rehab my second or third night there and asked God for help,” says Brad. “I gave it all up to God. I said, ‘I'm done, you gotta help me.’ Immediately, I felt different. I felt relief, but I was still in rehab, protected.”
Brad was there for 42 days, and when his brother picked him up, he still felt something had changed. He started going to meetings again, and he didn't drink.
In early 2006, Brad was doing well in his job and his program — he’d been able to stay clean and sober. He started smoking pot again, and then a friend who had access to cylinders of nitrous oxide, showed him how to get high doing that. “By the end of the year, I was losing my mind. I wasn't sleeping, I was doing drugs or working, nothing else,” he says. “I had the thought that I hadn't bought a house, I'd bought my own tomb.”
Brad prayed again on his knees. “And I quit doing drugs, just like that. It was immediate.”
The following year, he started studying the Bible. Over the years, he had never had many belongings but he'd always had a Bible, even though he admits he didn’t read it. Knowing his sobriety was directly related to a spiritual awakening, he tried attending various churches but he never felt comfortable. “I quit going to meetings because when I would tell my story about spirituality and the change I felt, they didn't understand or believe it. They would say, ‘You can't say that,’ or 'One day at a time’."
Today, at age 44, despite some clear repercussions, Brad can finally say, “Life is wonderful. I didn't do anything but be a drug addict and an alcoholic most of my life, but I'm happy. I try to help other addicts and alcoholics now. I'm trying to spread the good word of the Gospel because that's what saved me. If I'd done this way back when, who knows where I'd be.”
Brad* remembers yelling at his alcoholic mother that he was “never” going be like her. That was at age 7, and he started drinking when he was 12. Within a year, he was off to the races, unable to stop.
Brad believes he started drinking because of problems from his childhood. He has a physical deformity and was self-conscious, especially as a teenager. “I always felt so different. I never felt like I belonged in the world. I never felt comfortable. I was never happy with who I was. But with alcohol, I felt better,” he says. “With alcohol, I could shut down the conscience, numb it out . . . not dealing with stuff was my way of dealing with stuff.”
“Once I began priming the pump, I had to drink until I had my fill. Quite a few times, I would come to in the morning and not know what happened,” says Brad.
Soon after he started drinking alcohol, he was introduced to drugs. “It was quiet back then,” he says of growing up in rural Maryland. “We'd carry a bong around right on the street. You wouldn’t see a car for hours sometimes.”
Brad used a lot of drugs (LSD was his favorite), but stayed away from needles somehow. “I never gravitated towards cocaine or crack, either. It was so expensive and I used it to keep me in denial. I used to think, ‘Well I'm not doing needles, so I must be okay.’ Plus, I worked hard for my money,” he says.
Repercussions started to mark the years. “I flew out the back window of a car in 1983 after we wrecked. I went 112 feet and the car was twisted. I was the worst hurt; I was a wreck,” Brad says. “That was the first accident related to alcohol. There were four of us in the car and we were all drunk, just having been to a keg party. I have a piece of gravel in my neck and it's still there, serving as a good reminder.”
The list continued. “I got busted in high school for drugs. I got a drunk-in-public ticket. I got busted for a dirty urinalysis at Navy boot camp. I fractured my ankle while drunk, then it got busted again as I was using and drinking while rehabbing,” he says.
Brad was a highly functional addict. “I was smart, worked hard, tested well and performed well despite my problems. I got out of the Navy in 1988 and started working for a power plant, but had gotten two DUIs right when I started, the second before I even had gone to court for the first. They dropped one and I pled guilty for the other. Then I got another DUI in 1989 and lost my job,” he says.
He went to a court-ordered rehabilitation center and later, went twice to other rehabs on his own accord. Brad also attended Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, which he could ride to on his bicycle. “I could stay sober for about 90 days then I'd get back into it. I would do everything they said, go to meetings, try to change people, places and things, but I never felt right,” he says.
“I was going into my thirties but I'd never grown up and been responsible. My maturity and brain was still back in my teen years,” he says. “I could never get a real grasp so I'd always go back to the alcohol.”
Over the next seven years, Brad would receive three separate drug charges — all misdemeanors — and was tired of being in and out of jail. He finally moved to West Virginia in 1996 because he knew things “weren't working” for himself. “That's why I went into the Navy initially, too, but I still always find the same kind of people, the friends I left behind, and do the same things,” he says.
He moved again to Virginia but said, “Every morning I'd get up and face the enemy. I’d look in the mirror and it was me.”
Family illness brought Brad back to West Virginia. He and his brother cared for their ailing father in Hedgesville until he passed away in 2002. “I still was drinking and using. I know now I could have done so much more, so much better.”
Brad was starting to get nervous about his drinking. “I was doing stupid things again. One night, I hit a barn in a blackout,”he remembers.
He got his fourth DUI the following year. He pled guilty but got off easy because West Virginia didn't know he'd been charged in Maryland. Brad served the mandatory 24 hours in jail and paid a fine. Weeks later, he got another DUI, but got it thrown out of court despite the video of him failing the breathalyzer test.
“I thought it was God looking out for me, but I went to a rehab program at my lawyer's recommendation,” he says.
“I knew sitting there it was just the beginning. I’d gotten three drug charges and five DUIs, and that didn't account for all the times I'd driven drunk or high. I thought, where's it going to end? I got on my knees at the rehab my second or third night there and asked God for help,” says Brad. “I gave it all up to God. I said, ‘I'm done, you gotta help me.’ Immediately, I felt different. I felt relief, but I was still in rehab, protected.”
Brad was there for 42 days, and when his brother picked him up, he still felt something had changed. He started going to meetings again, and he didn't drink.
In early 2006, Brad was doing well in his job and his program — he’d been able to stay clean and sober. He started smoking pot again, and then a friend who had access to cylinders of nitrous oxide, showed him how to get high doing that. “By the end of the year, I was losing my mind. I wasn't sleeping, I was doing drugs or working, nothing else,” he says. “I had the thought that I hadn't bought a house, I'd bought my own tomb.”
Brad prayed again on his knees. “And I quit doing drugs, just like that. It was immediate.”
The following year, he started studying the Bible. Over the years, he had never had many belongings but he'd always had a Bible, even though he admits he didn’t read it. Knowing his sobriety was directly related to a spiritual awakening, he tried attending various churches but he never felt comfortable. “I quit going to meetings because when I would tell my story about spirituality and the change I felt, they didn't understand or believe it. They would say, ‘You can't say that,’ or 'One day at a time’."
Today, at age 44, despite some clear repercussions, Brad can finally say, “Life is wonderful. I didn't do anything but be a drug addict and an alcoholic most of my life, but I'm happy. I try to help other addicts and alcoholics now. I'm trying to spread the good word of the Gospel because that's what saved me. If I'd done this way back when, who knows where I'd be.”
A family affair: a mother’s harrowing story of her addict daughter
“My experience with addicts began when I was married to my son's father. He abused prescription medications by snorting them," says 44-year-old Cinde. I worked all the time and thought he was taking care of our children. All the while, they were taking care of themselves because he was always snorting pills . . . Lorecets, Percocets, Tylox, etc.”
Cinde says when her oldest daughter Nikki* was 13, she was an honor roll student and a good child, ran track, won spelling bees and usually made straight A's. “When Nikki turned 14, everything starting changing,” she says.
“All of a sudden, she didn't like school, stole from me and ran around with a different crowd of people. She got into trouble all the time and eventually she was sent to Salem, the detention center in Martinsburg, and a place in Morgantown for girls,” says Cinde. “Nikki always completed the programs because she just wanted out.”
Nikki came back home when she was 16. By then, Cinde had divorced her husband because his addiction had hurt her family. “I found out he was abusive when he didn't have his drugs, and not long after the divorce, I discovered he had given my daughter pills to snort when she was 14,” she says.
When Nikki first came back home, after completing her programs, she worked two jobs and “kept her head together,” but it was short-lived.
By 17, Nikki was doing other drugs and smoking crack cocaine. “I've seen a drastic change in her from then on,” says her mother. “She moved out but she would always come back. I tried to help her get a job, talked to her about getting help, anything I could do to help her.”
At the time, Cinde was pregnant with her fourth and youngest child. “Nikki was so excited, but I was worried,” she says.
After the baby was born, Nikki eventually left again, and got further into drugs, using heroin and crack cocaine heavily.
“I had her back and forth at my house and she was trying to get cleaned up, but she was withdrawing really badly and eventually the drugs won. She went to a rehabilitation center for help and they wanted her to stay for two weeks, but Nikki didn't want to do that,” remembers Cinde.
“I had contacted the rehab over and over, imploring them to help her but you always had to wait for an appointment, and that was usually two to four weeks away,” she says. “One thing I have learned is there is no waiting period if someone wants the help now. That is way too long for an addict to wait to get help.”
Cinde also tried twice to have her daughter committed — unsuccessfully. Cinde says her daughter has been in and out of jail, gotten many tickets, driven without a license, and has been found passed out in wrecked cars or in cars that are still running.
On July 31, 2005, Nikki had just gotten out of the Eastern Regional Jail for trying to sell drugs to someone so she could get her cut and feed her own addiction. “She called me late that night from the emergency room at City Hospital after being found in a car. A person called 911 after seeing she was blue and unresponsive. He also started CPR, which saved her life,” says Cinde.
“I went to the hospital. The paramedics had given her Narcan to wake her up and it worked. They told me she’d had about five minutes left to live when they found her. Nikki told the social worker at the hospital her daughter had used too much heroin for her system,” she says.
“I asked for commitment papers and I took my time filling them out,” Cinde recalls. “I waited about an hour and the fax came through to the hospital that I was turned down again. I thought I was going have a breakdown right then and there.”
In September 2005, Cinde filled the papers out again only this time, she typed a long letter including everything she could possibly remember that might help save her daughter. After three failed attempts, the mental hygiene petition was finally approved.
“I was excited but fearful that Nikki would hate me for this. I put it in the Lord's hands because I would rather have her alive and never speak to me again than have to bury her,” says Cinde.
Cinde was present at the hearing that determined Nikki's fate; she would be sent to a drug program in Alta Vista, W.Va. Cinde took in the sight of her formerly healthy daughter, who sat handcuffed to a bench. Once weighing 125 lbs., Nikki was now an emaciated 98 lbs., and her once beautiful teeth were rotted and broken off. “Finally!" thought Cinde, "They will save my daughter."
On Nikki's fourth day at the treatment facility, when she came out of her drug-induced coma, the facility called Cinde to say her daughter was coming home. Cinde was incredulous. “They told me Nikki was an adult and I was not her guardian, so if she didn't want to be there, she didn't have to stay! I said, ‘So what am I supposed to do . . . pick her up dead out of a gutter and let her be another statistic?’ They said they didn't know but she wasn't staying there. I was devastated.”
Cinde says it finally sunk in that she could not do this for Nikki, and could not save her. “I was depressed for what seemed like forever.” In short order, Nikki was back out on the streets once again.
“She has been kidnapped, almost killed, beat up and she has done things for drugs nobody would want to do or go through. She has lost many friends from the street to murder and overdosing on heroin or other drugs,” says Cinde. “Even the prosecutors wanted her locked up to save her.”
“If you saw her, she looked dead, like skin over bones, her cheeks sunken in. It was terrible. It made me cry,” she says.
“The point I really need to get across is there is no help for addicts or the people trying to save them in the state of West Virginia. Another thing is, if an addict doesn't want the help, you cannot kill yourself trying to get them to take it,” she says. “I thought the mental hygiene paper would make her stay in the program until she was clean, and help her to get her life back together, but it didn't.”
Cinde carries some guilt over her daughter’s addiction. “I believe a big part of my daughter becoming an addict is because her stepfather gave her drugs at an early age. I went through about a year of blaming myself, wishing I would have been more aware, wishing I would have done things differently, wishing I didn't work all the time to keep the bills paid. I still carry some guilt about all of it but guilt doesn't change what has already happened,” she says. I left my ex-husband when our youngest son was 9, determined not to lose him to the system, or have drugs and abuse around him.”
“I have tried everything to get help for myself while going through this and there is nothing. There is no Nar-Anon in the state of West Virginia. That is something that we really need; it would help parents like me,” she says. “I just wanted to talk to people like me and see if what I was feeling and the things I was going through were going get any better.”
Nikki is currently serving 20 months in a federal prison. Cinde says she has served about 18 months of her sentence and seems to have a new outlook. Her mother prays she will be all right this time. “Nikki and I have always been close even through the drug abuse. We are actually able to talk about a lot more of our feelings and there is no anger with her anymore. I believe she actually understands why I did the things I did and why I had to put her out and keep her out unless she was willing to get help.”
“My experience with addicts began when I was married to my son's father. He abused prescription medications by snorting them," says 44-year-old Cinde. I worked all the time and thought he was taking care of our children. All the while, they were taking care of themselves because he was always snorting pills . . . Lorecets, Percocets, Tylox, etc.”
Cinde says when her oldest daughter Nikki* was 13, she was an honor roll student and a good child, ran track, won spelling bees and usually made straight A's. “When Nikki turned 14, everything starting changing,” she says.
“All of a sudden, she didn't like school, stole from me and ran around with a different crowd of people. She got into trouble all the time and eventually she was sent to Salem, the detention center in Martinsburg, and a place in Morgantown for girls,” says Cinde. “Nikki always completed the programs because she just wanted out.”
Nikki came back home when she was 16. By then, Cinde had divorced her husband because his addiction had hurt her family. “I found out he was abusive when he didn't have his drugs, and not long after the divorce, I discovered he had given my daughter pills to snort when she was 14,” she says.
When Nikki first came back home, after completing her programs, she worked two jobs and “kept her head together,” but it was short-lived.
By 17, Nikki was doing other drugs and smoking crack cocaine. “I've seen a drastic change in her from then on,” says her mother. “She moved out but she would always come back. I tried to help her get a job, talked to her about getting help, anything I could do to help her.”
At the time, Cinde was pregnant with her fourth and youngest child. “Nikki was so excited, but I was worried,” she says.
After the baby was born, Nikki eventually left again, and got further into drugs, using heroin and crack cocaine heavily.
“I had her back and forth at my house and she was trying to get cleaned up, but she was withdrawing really badly and eventually the drugs won. She went to a rehabilitation center for help and they wanted her to stay for two weeks, but Nikki didn't want to do that,” remembers Cinde.
“I had contacted the rehab over and over, imploring them to help her but you always had to wait for an appointment, and that was usually two to four weeks away,” she says. “One thing I have learned is there is no waiting period if someone wants the help now. That is way too long for an addict to wait to get help.”
Cinde also tried twice to have her daughter committed — unsuccessfully. Cinde says her daughter has been in and out of jail, gotten many tickets, driven without a license, and has been found passed out in wrecked cars or in cars that are still running.
On July 31, 2005, Nikki had just gotten out of the Eastern Regional Jail for trying to sell drugs to someone so she could get her cut and feed her own addiction. “She called me late that night from the emergency room at City Hospital after being found in a car. A person called 911 after seeing she was blue and unresponsive. He also started CPR, which saved her life,” says Cinde.
“I went to the hospital. The paramedics had given her Narcan to wake her up and it worked. They told me she’d had about five minutes left to live when they found her. Nikki told the social worker at the hospital her daughter had used too much heroin for her system,” she says.
“I asked for commitment papers and I took my time filling them out,” Cinde recalls. “I waited about an hour and the fax came through to the hospital that I was turned down again. I thought I was going have a breakdown right then and there.”
In September 2005, Cinde filled the papers out again only this time, she typed a long letter including everything she could possibly remember that might help save her daughter. After three failed attempts, the mental hygiene petition was finally approved.
“I was excited but fearful that Nikki would hate me for this. I put it in the Lord's hands because I would rather have her alive and never speak to me again than have to bury her,” says Cinde.
Cinde was present at the hearing that determined Nikki's fate; she would be sent to a drug program in Alta Vista, W.Va. Cinde took in the sight of her formerly healthy daughter, who sat handcuffed to a bench. Once weighing 125 lbs., Nikki was now an emaciated 98 lbs., and her once beautiful teeth were rotted and broken off. “Finally!" thought Cinde, "They will save my daughter."
On Nikki's fourth day at the treatment facility, when she came out of her drug-induced coma, the facility called Cinde to say her daughter was coming home. Cinde was incredulous. “They told me Nikki was an adult and I was not her guardian, so if she didn't want to be there, she didn't have to stay! I said, ‘So what am I supposed to do . . . pick her up dead out of a gutter and let her be another statistic?’ They said they didn't know but she wasn't staying there. I was devastated.”
Cinde says it finally sunk in that she could not do this for Nikki, and could not save her. “I was depressed for what seemed like forever.” In short order, Nikki was back out on the streets once again.
“She has been kidnapped, almost killed, beat up and she has done things for drugs nobody would want to do or go through. She has lost many friends from the street to murder and overdosing on heroin or other drugs,” says Cinde. “Even the prosecutors wanted her locked up to save her.”
“If you saw her, she looked dead, like skin over bones, her cheeks sunken in. It was terrible. It made me cry,” she says.
“The point I really need to get across is there is no help for addicts or the people trying to save them in the state of West Virginia. Another thing is, if an addict doesn't want the help, you cannot kill yourself trying to get them to take it,” she says. “I thought the mental hygiene paper would make her stay in the program until she was clean, and help her to get her life back together, but it didn't.”
Cinde carries some guilt over her daughter’s addiction. “I believe a big part of my daughter becoming an addict is because her stepfather gave her drugs at an early age. I went through about a year of blaming myself, wishing I would have been more aware, wishing I would have done things differently, wishing I didn't work all the time to keep the bills paid. I still carry some guilt about all of it but guilt doesn't change what has already happened,” she says. I left my ex-husband when our youngest son was 9, determined not to lose him to the system, or have drugs and abuse around him.”
“I have tried everything to get help for myself while going through this and there is nothing. There is no Nar-Anon in the state of West Virginia. That is something that we really need; it would help parents like me,” she says. “I just wanted to talk to people like me and see if what I was feeling and the things I was going through were going get any better.”
Nikki is currently serving 20 months in a federal prison. Cinde says she has served about 18 months of her sentence and seems to have a new outlook. Her mother prays she will be all right this time. “Nikki and I have always been close even through the drug abuse. We are actually able to talk about a lot more of our feelings and there is no anger with her anymore. I believe she actually understands why I did the things I did and why I had to put her out and keep her out unless she was willing to get help.”
Heartache and hope: life with a husband and son in addiction
“I live with two addicts — my son and my husband,” says Jean,* 42. Even though she is divorced from John,* she still considers him her husband. She says he “is clean, for now, but I always wonder what can happen.” Their son Johnny* is another story. Now 21, he faces yet another jail term and is using heavily. Father and son are both out on bond after getting in trouble together last year.
Jean tries to unravel how it all began. She married John 19 years ago. He was her second husband, and she already had two young children. “My mom used to say I'd never find anybody to raise those kids. I remember how John was there for me when I think of his addiction. My kids' father basically abandoned us, so I was grateful to John,” she says. A year after they married, they had Johnny.
“John drank a lot in the early years and later, experimented with drugs,” Jean remembers, “Sometimes I felt I would leave him, but couldn't because of the three kids we had.”
She blames herself for not noticing the signs with her youngest son. “I see it now, and look back and can see what was going on,” she says. “Johnny started out at a very young age, smoking pot and doing cocaine. He was sent to Timber Ridge School (which serves young men with behavioral difficulties) for two years when he was 16, and that was his chance, but he just did the time.”
She divorced John in 2004 when he became addicted to heroin. “Johnny brought it to my attention that there were needles and things in the vehicles. When I realized he was shooting up, I divorced him and he lost everything,” says Jean. “I was away from him about a year and a half, but he was always around because he never moved far away — he lived with his father around the corner.”
Jean says he put a lot of energy into getting her back. “I know he loves me but I think he needs me more than he loves me. The truth is not out there about addiction. I have tried everything to make him stop,” she says.
Early in 2006, Jean let John move back in but they are still divorced. "He's fallen off the wagon several times. I make him leave and when he straightens up, he comes back. It's like a roller coaster,” she says. “But I am not going to lose everything I worked for to addiction. Even though we are together, we're separate. If he gets in trouble, it's him. I can’t be brought into it. That was a smart thing to do, to divorce him and separate from him financially.”
John’s main addictions are Xanax and alcohol. Jean says he suffers from seizures but if he takes Xanax, he doesn't have them. “I think he thinks, 'I can do a little of this and she won't know,' but I can tell if he has one pill. I can tell by the way he speaks, by the way his face looks,” she says. “When he's straight, he's a down-to-earth, easy-going guy. He's does good work, and he's a likable person. But when he does drugs, he's the most deceiving person you'd ever want to meet. He can be eating his dinner and go to sleep. He blacks out.”
John has been in a program since April. “He sees a doctor, goes to a group, gets drug tested, and gets his Suboxone (a semi-synthetic opioid analgesicwhich helps alleviate the compulsion to use), so he is clean, for now,” says Jean.
Johnny, on the other hand, has never stayed clean. “From the time he went to Timber Ridge, things have gone badly,” says his mother. “He did good for a while, even got a job, but then he moved out at 18 and really got into trouble.”
Johnny started popping pills, became a heroin addict and got mixed up with an older woman who introduced him to crack cocaine. It wasn’t long before Johnny was in jail for violating his probation. From there, Johnny took a turn for the worse. “He started doing crimes — terrible things — but when it was all over and he didn't have any place to hide, he came home,” she says.
“They came and arrested him and he spent 60 days in jail,” says Jean, who didn’t plan to bail him out but he eventually talked her into it. "The prosecutor agreed to drop the bond significantly if Johnny agreed to go directly to rehab for 90 days.”
“There is no such place in West Virginia,” says Jean. “There are meetings here, but they need a facility.” She was forced to take him to a rehabilitation center in Virginia instead.
Johnny did well at the treatment facility the first 30 days, and Jean says, “I saw my boy come back. He was clean and I could see a little of the boy I had raised.” Unfortunately, the next phase of his recovery was in a halfway house and he got into trouble, but he did finish serving his time.
“I've spent my life savings on Johnny, trying to get him clean and sober and it hasn't done any good. Both he and his father can get straight, it's just keeping them that way,” says Jean.
Jean says Johnny came home one weekend and $500 went missing. “I think he spent it on crack, all in one day. I was devastated. That's when I knew if he was going to be in my house, I would have to lock up all things of value, and my purse. That's horrible, but that's the way it is,” she says.
“When he does crack, he becomes a criminal. He's getting ready to serve more time again now. He's got charges in Jefferson County and Martinsburg. If the plea gets accepted, he will go to a facility for young offenders,” she says.
This lifetime of addiction has taken its toll on Jean and her family. “I am heartbroken,” she says. “I had my kids young and my whole life has been about someone else. It's never been about me. It was about my father (who was a chronic alcoholic), my kids, my husband, never about me. I kept thinking I would have my time, but I've never had my time.”
“When I see a police officer coming up the street, I wonder what's Johnny’s done now. I live in Charles Town and my neighbors all know. They must feel sorry for me or they think I'm crazy,” she says. “I don't want him to die, which is why I take him back. If he dies, it will be with me trying to save him."
“I have told both John and Johnny, 'Either you're going to be clean or you’re going to be in the cemetery or prison.' Sometimes I think they're not happy clean, that they like being messed up,” she says. “But when I look at John and Johnny . . . if I didn't think they were going somewhere, I wouldn't let them stay here.”
Jean does have some support from her family. She says her daughter is an angel but she tries not to burden her with these problems. “My sister and I did go to a program for my father,” says Jean. “It helped some. I've also been to some meetings because of John, some years ago, and I remember them saying we have to learn to accept this is the way they are, we can't change them.”
“The focus is always on the addict, but it should really be on the family members,” she adds. “Sometimes it puts you down to a level you don't really want to be. It's a horrible life, a horrible experience. I wouldn't wish my life on my worst enemy because it's been horrible. But there's always hope. Every day is a new day.”
“I live with two addicts — my son and my husband,” says Jean,* 42. Even though she is divorced from John,* she still considers him her husband. She says he “is clean, for now, but I always wonder what can happen.” Their son Johnny* is another story. Now 21, he faces yet another jail term and is using heavily. Father and son are both out on bond after getting in trouble together last year.
Jean tries to unravel how it all began. She married John 19 years ago. He was her second husband, and she already had two young children. “My mom used to say I'd never find anybody to raise those kids. I remember how John was there for me when I think of his addiction. My kids' father basically abandoned us, so I was grateful to John,” she says. A year after they married, they had Johnny.
“John drank a lot in the early years and later, experimented with drugs,” Jean remembers, “Sometimes I felt I would leave him, but couldn't because of the three kids we had.”
She blames herself for not noticing the signs with her youngest son. “I see it now, and look back and can see what was going on,” she says. “Johnny started out at a very young age, smoking pot and doing cocaine. He was sent to Timber Ridge School (which serves young men with behavioral difficulties) for two years when he was 16, and that was his chance, but he just did the time.”
She divorced John in 2004 when he became addicted to heroin. “Johnny brought it to my attention that there were needles and things in the vehicles. When I realized he was shooting up, I divorced him and he lost everything,” says Jean. “I was away from him about a year and a half, but he was always around because he never moved far away — he lived with his father around the corner.”
Jean says he put a lot of energy into getting her back. “I know he loves me but I think he needs me more than he loves me. The truth is not out there about addiction. I have tried everything to make him stop,” she says.
Early in 2006, Jean let John move back in but they are still divorced. "He's fallen off the wagon several times. I make him leave and when he straightens up, he comes back. It's like a roller coaster,” she says. “But I am not going to lose everything I worked for to addiction. Even though we are together, we're separate. If he gets in trouble, it's him. I can’t be brought into it. That was a smart thing to do, to divorce him and separate from him financially.”
John’s main addictions are Xanax and alcohol. Jean says he suffers from seizures but if he takes Xanax, he doesn't have them. “I think he thinks, 'I can do a little of this and she won't know,' but I can tell if he has one pill. I can tell by the way he speaks, by the way his face looks,” she says. “When he's straight, he's a down-to-earth, easy-going guy. He's does good work, and he's a likable person. But when he does drugs, he's the most deceiving person you'd ever want to meet. He can be eating his dinner and go to sleep. He blacks out.”
John has been in a program since April. “He sees a doctor, goes to a group, gets drug tested, and gets his Suboxone (a semi-synthetic opioid analgesicwhich helps alleviate the compulsion to use), so he is clean, for now,” says Jean.
Johnny, on the other hand, has never stayed clean. “From the time he went to Timber Ridge, things have gone badly,” says his mother. “He did good for a while, even got a job, but then he moved out at 18 and really got into trouble.”
Johnny started popping pills, became a heroin addict and got mixed up with an older woman who introduced him to crack cocaine. It wasn’t long before Johnny was in jail for violating his probation. From there, Johnny took a turn for the worse. “He started doing crimes — terrible things — but when it was all over and he didn't have any place to hide, he came home,” she says.
“They came and arrested him and he spent 60 days in jail,” says Jean, who didn’t plan to bail him out but he eventually talked her into it. "The prosecutor agreed to drop the bond significantly if Johnny agreed to go directly to rehab for 90 days.”
“There is no such place in West Virginia,” says Jean. “There are meetings here, but they need a facility.” She was forced to take him to a rehabilitation center in Virginia instead.
Johnny did well at the treatment facility the first 30 days, and Jean says, “I saw my boy come back. He was clean and I could see a little of the boy I had raised.” Unfortunately, the next phase of his recovery was in a halfway house and he got into trouble, but he did finish serving his time.
“I've spent my life savings on Johnny, trying to get him clean and sober and it hasn't done any good. Both he and his father can get straight, it's just keeping them that way,” says Jean.
Jean says Johnny came home one weekend and $500 went missing. “I think he spent it on crack, all in one day. I was devastated. That's when I knew if he was going to be in my house, I would have to lock up all things of value, and my purse. That's horrible, but that's the way it is,” she says.
“When he does crack, he becomes a criminal. He's getting ready to serve more time again now. He's got charges in Jefferson County and Martinsburg. If the plea gets accepted, he will go to a facility for young offenders,” she says.
This lifetime of addiction has taken its toll on Jean and her family. “I am heartbroken,” she says. “I had my kids young and my whole life has been about someone else. It's never been about me. It was about my father (who was a chronic alcoholic), my kids, my husband, never about me. I kept thinking I would have my time, but I've never had my time.”
“When I see a police officer coming up the street, I wonder what's Johnny’s done now. I live in Charles Town and my neighbors all know. They must feel sorry for me or they think I'm crazy,” she says. “I don't want him to die, which is why I take him back. If he dies, it will be with me trying to save him."
“I have told both John and Johnny, 'Either you're going to be clean or you’re going to be in the cemetery or prison.' Sometimes I think they're not happy clean, that they like being messed up,” she says. “But when I look at John and Johnny . . . if I didn't think they were going somewhere, I wouldn't let them stay here.”
Jean does have some support from her family. She says her daughter is an angel but she tries not to burden her with these problems. “My sister and I did go to a program for my father,” says Jean. “It helped some. I've also been to some meetings because of John, some years ago, and I remember them saying we have to learn to accept this is the way they are, we can't change them.”
“The focus is always on the addict, but it should really be on the family members,” she adds. “Sometimes it puts you down to a level you don't really want to be. It's a horrible life, a horrible experience. I wouldn't wish my life on my worst enemy because it's been horrible. But there's always hope. Every day is a new day.”
God was this addict’s solution
Jerry Stricker, 48, is a recovering alcoholic and drug addict — and a miracle. He was a classic hopeless case, the kind people write-off after watching someone cycle through jails and rehabs and never get better. But Stricker did get better, by the grace of God, before it was too late.
Stricker says he grew up as a typical youngster but his family moved around a lot. He was born in the Panama Canal Zone then spent time in various states. His father came back from Vietnam and Stricker says he was traumatized. “I was four when he left, he was gone about a year and a half but he came back changed. He had taken four gunshot wounds, some severe, and eventually had to lose one leg above the knee. It affected me and the whole family,” he says.
The family finally settled in one area, and Stricker was able to make some friends. “I just wanted to be part of the gang, but I never felt right. I felt our family was kind of freakish. Back in the 70s, the Vietnam vets weren't exactly heroes plus my sister was disabled,” he says,
In junior high, one of Stricker’s friends bought some marijuana and he tried it. He had already tried beer and thought it tasted terrible, but when he smoked the pot, he felt good. “For the first time in my life, I was laughing and carrying on and I felt real weird inside. It made me feel different but I felt better.”
The family moved again. “I was thrown into a place where I knew no one. I made friends with one person and we got high a lot. I started experimenting with more drugs, like LSD and hash. I was willing to try anything except shooting up,” he says. “I'm not sure why except I hated needles. I am just so thankful I stayed away from them.”
Stricker’s using got quickly out of control and he was also drinking, which was easy because his father had a bar downstairs. “Then I found my Dad's pain pills. I started taking them and getting sick, overdosing and all sorts of things,” he says. “The first time I took it, it was a rush. I was hooked. I felt sick at first, but it felt so good and it lasted hours.”
His father soon noticed his pain medications were disappearing and confronted his son. He also started hiding them but things were already out of hand. Stricker was still living at home and finishing up school, but he wasn’t participating in family dynamics. “To my family, I was completely going astray and they were worried. I thought they were over-reacting,” he says.
He quit school in eleventh grade but his father forced him to get a job. He lasted half a year, and went back to school. “I don't know how I did it,” says Stricker. “I was drinking, smoking and snorting cocaine, I had the toughest class schedule I’d ever had and I was in a band. My life was sex, drugs and rock n' roll, and I did it very well.”
Within a year of graduation, Stricker’s parents kicked him out of the house. He went to Michigan to live with his grandmother where he started college. When the money ran out, he was forced to move home, and was furious his family was moving again.
He started community college, but was still getting high and drinking. “That was always the main priority because I couldn't deal with reality. This had already caught up to me at 19, when I was in rehab,” he says. “I already had depression and thought I was sick and needed help. I was bleak, having thoughts of running my van into a tree. So I went to a 30-day in-patient rehab. I can't remember a whole lot of the experience, but I'm sure it planted some seeds.”
Stricker says he ended up in a rehab every five years, and then it would get worse. “Every time I'd go through one, I’d get healthier, and put the weight back on but I never did what was necessary for an addict to get right. I just went there and got healthy, listened to the counselors, listened about the twelve-step programs, and was sincere then I'd get out and wham, I'd get hit with the compulsion to use or drink and I'd start again,” he says.
“But it never got better, I always picked up where I had left off,” says Stricker. “I felt baffled, and that I was hopeless. I just figured I was going to die. The reality was I just didn't know how to get sober.”
Stricker married a woman he met in a recovery program at age 26. He joined the Army and moved to Alaska, where they had the first of two daughters. He had eighteen months of being clean and sober when she was born. He thought he was cured.
The family moved to Florida, where they had their second daughter but finances were tight. Stricker began drinking again, but hadn’t built a recovery network and says he “was riding by the skin of my teeth.”
When the Gulf War broke out, Stricker rejoined the service and transferred to Alaska. “I was there for three months by myself, drinking. I tried to quit, but couldn't do it,” he says. “It just fell apart.” His wife left him, helping him sink into further despair.
Eventually Stricker went through another rehabilitation, this time in the military. “Again, I knew all the answers. I was a blessing to the major, doing all the talking, leading the Third Step prayer. It was all about me. Everyone said, 'Jerry's the one who helped me,' and said thanks. The major even presented me with a gold coin,” he says. “I realized I'd helped everyone else, but I didn't help myself. I knew I wasn't well. I went home and I didn't stay sober. I lasted about a week, and the compulsion came back.”
He got out of the military, but was in pain. He had lost his family although he had fought for custody. He was drinking all the time.
Stricker was 35 and moved back to a place he had fond memories. He was hurting inside, but laughing outside. He ended up getting married but describes it as “the marriage from hell. It was all about drinking and blackouts and she was a rager. She would beat me up when she was drunk.”
His drinking escalated, and then he began taking pain medications for a broken wrist. His drinking progressed to the point where he would wake-up during the night with DTs (delirium tremens). “It was a nightmare. I had to drink when I didn't want to drink, but I had to do it to feel normal,” he says. He stopped eating much. He was unemployed. He spent much of his time weeping and crying. “I knew I was in trouble, that I was destined for a big downfall but I didn't know how to get out.”
After a few years of excessive using and more stints in rehab, his wife called Stricker’s father for help. “My folks were deeply concerned for me. I was sick, bankrupt and addicted," he says. “I was desperate. I was trying to drink and they were trying to keep me from it. I went to any extent I could to do that.”
Finally, Stricker checked into the Veteran's hospital in Richmond, Va. “It was a two-week rehab and I thought I was going to die. The day before I was to go home, I was so depressed. I felt nothing was going to work, that I was just hopeless. Then I felt something stirring inside of me. I got in my little hospital bed and started to bawl. I started shaking and crying,” he says.
“I cried out to God and said, ‘God, please take this away from me, I'm dying, it's killing me, and I can't live without it,'” Stricker says. “I had never prayed to God before. I controlled my own destiny and everything was about me, but I prayed that day because I had nowhere else to turn, nowhere else to go.”
“Finally, I stopped crying and as I was laying there, I felt calm. I got up, pulled myself together. I felt a little better. I slowly started feeling this calmness come over me, a little peace and serenity . . . even a little joy,” he remembers.
“The next day my folks came and picked me up and I felt happy. I went home and went to a meeting. About a week or so later, the thought came, ‘I don't want to drink. I haven't wanted to drink. Wow. Where's the compulsion? The desire? Where did it go? There was nothing in the world that was stopping me,” he says. “Nothing in 30 years had ever stopped me from drinking — not rehabs, not counselors, not psychiatrists, not AA meetings, nothing. Not only did I not want to drink, but I didn't feel pain either.”
Stricker says it was a miracle, and he finally pieced together that he’d prayed and the compulsion had been removed. He’s never had a desire to drink since that October day in 1999. “It confirmed to me there was a God, that He was real and He does things,” he says.
Unfortunately, Stricker’s problems were not over. “Satan found a way back into my life,” he says, when he fell in love with a woman and was reintroduced to narcotic pain medications. He did have real pain and discovered he needed both of his hips replaced due to a rare disease. One of the causes was drinking alcohol. “I was overwhelmed, and in disbelief,” he says. “I felt condemned, crushed."
“The doctor put me on medication for the pain, and my addiction came back. I was hooked on the very same pills I was hooked on at 16,” he says. He had the first surgery, and convalesced at home, still abusing the medication and already “doctor shopping.” The pain was intense, but he got through it, and his right hip healed well. The second surgery was complicated by a post-procedure problem and the pain was agonizing. Stricker sued for malpractice, but lost.
“God knew if I had millions of dollars, it would be the end for me,” says Stricker. “In the end, I was too tired and too doped up to keep fighting. My life came to a point where I was suicidal," and he acted upon it. He was saved again, but didn’t understand why he was still alive. He cursed God, not knowing until later that God had saved him.
Stricker spent the next ten years being very sick, in a lot of pain and abusing pain medications. “I was on the edge of living and dying. I overdosed many times and I just don't know how I survived it other than God's mercy,” he says. “I had to go through such a nightmare and put the people around me through such a nightmare, such hell.”
“I finally looked in the mirror one day and had a revelation,” he says. “I went to a church and prayed again. I said, ‘I give it all to you God. Please take it.’ I left the old Jerry at the altar and walked out a free man.” He hasn’t taken any pain medication since.
In hindsight, Stricker says, “I never put it together or understood, but something was terribly wrong from the beginning. For most addictions, there's an underlying reason for it to begin. It's not like you're having this happy, go-lucky life and run into drugs and start using. You either are unhappy, something's missing from your life or your home life is bad so when you do find the drugs or alcohol, it fulfills you. You feel better. You feel like you belong. And this is the beginning of addiction because it gives you the sensation that you could do things you never could before. It gives you courage. And what leads to addiction is you want more because you never forget the feeling you got in the beginning so you use it more and more.”
As for the solution, he says, “I now know the answer to addiction is to find the spirit of God, because that is the only way we get well. I tried all the other ways, and they didn't work. The only successful people I know in the programs — and I've been in for decades — are people who have God in their lives and who work the steps.”
Good things happen when you surrender your will to the Lord,” says Stricker. “That's the key.”
Jerry Stricker, 48, is a recovering alcoholic and drug addict — and a miracle. He was a classic hopeless case, the kind people write-off after watching someone cycle through jails and rehabs and never get better. But Stricker did get better, by the grace of God, before it was too late.
Stricker says he grew up as a typical youngster but his family moved around a lot. He was born in the Panama Canal Zone then spent time in various states. His father came back from Vietnam and Stricker says he was traumatized. “I was four when he left, he was gone about a year and a half but he came back changed. He had taken four gunshot wounds, some severe, and eventually had to lose one leg above the knee. It affected me and the whole family,” he says.
The family finally settled in one area, and Stricker was able to make some friends. “I just wanted to be part of the gang, but I never felt right. I felt our family was kind of freakish. Back in the 70s, the Vietnam vets weren't exactly heroes plus my sister was disabled,” he says,
In junior high, one of Stricker’s friends bought some marijuana and he tried it. He had already tried beer and thought it tasted terrible, but when he smoked the pot, he felt good. “For the first time in my life, I was laughing and carrying on and I felt real weird inside. It made me feel different but I felt better.”
The family moved again. “I was thrown into a place where I knew no one. I made friends with one person and we got high a lot. I started experimenting with more drugs, like LSD and hash. I was willing to try anything except shooting up,” he says. “I'm not sure why except I hated needles. I am just so thankful I stayed away from them.”
Stricker’s using got quickly out of control and he was also drinking, which was easy because his father had a bar downstairs. “Then I found my Dad's pain pills. I started taking them and getting sick, overdosing and all sorts of things,” he says. “The first time I took it, it was a rush. I was hooked. I felt sick at first, but it felt so good and it lasted hours.”
His father soon noticed his pain medications were disappearing and confronted his son. He also started hiding them but things were already out of hand. Stricker was still living at home and finishing up school, but he wasn’t participating in family dynamics. “To my family, I was completely going astray and they were worried. I thought they were over-reacting,” he says.
He quit school in eleventh grade but his father forced him to get a job. He lasted half a year, and went back to school. “I don't know how I did it,” says Stricker. “I was drinking, smoking and snorting cocaine, I had the toughest class schedule I’d ever had and I was in a band. My life was sex, drugs and rock n' roll, and I did it very well.”
Within a year of graduation, Stricker’s parents kicked him out of the house. He went to Michigan to live with his grandmother where he started college. When the money ran out, he was forced to move home, and was furious his family was moving again.
He started community college, but was still getting high and drinking. “That was always the main priority because I couldn't deal with reality. This had already caught up to me at 19, when I was in rehab,” he says. “I already had depression and thought I was sick and needed help. I was bleak, having thoughts of running my van into a tree. So I went to a 30-day in-patient rehab. I can't remember a whole lot of the experience, but I'm sure it planted some seeds.”
Stricker says he ended up in a rehab every five years, and then it would get worse. “Every time I'd go through one, I’d get healthier, and put the weight back on but I never did what was necessary for an addict to get right. I just went there and got healthy, listened to the counselors, listened about the twelve-step programs, and was sincere then I'd get out and wham, I'd get hit with the compulsion to use or drink and I'd start again,” he says.
“But it never got better, I always picked up where I had left off,” says Stricker. “I felt baffled, and that I was hopeless. I just figured I was going to die. The reality was I just didn't know how to get sober.”
Stricker married a woman he met in a recovery program at age 26. He joined the Army and moved to Alaska, where they had the first of two daughters. He had eighteen months of being clean and sober when she was born. He thought he was cured.
The family moved to Florida, where they had their second daughter but finances were tight. Stricker began drinking again, but hadn’t built a recovery network and says he “was riding by the skin of my teeth.”
When the Gulf War broke out, Stricker rejoined the service and transferred to Alaska. “I was there for three months by myself, drinking. I tried to quit, but couldn't do it,” he says. “It just fell apart.” His wife left him, helping him sink into further despair.
Eventually Stricker went through another rehabilitation, this time in the military. “Again, I knew all the answers. I was a blessing to the major, doing all the talking, leading the Third Step prayer. It was all about me. Everyone said, 'Jerry's the one who helped me,' and said thanks. The major even presented me with a gold coin,” he says. “I realized I'd helped everyone else, but I didn't help myself. I knew I wasn't well. I went home and I didn't stay sober. I lasted about a week, and the compulsion came back.”
He got out of the military, but was in pain. He had lost his family although he had fought for custody. He was drinking all the time.
Stricker was 35 and moved back to a place he had fond memories. He was hurting inside, but laughing outside. He ended up getting married but describes it as “the marriage from hell. It was all about drinking and blackouts and she was a rager. She would beat me up when she was drunk.”
His drinking escalated, and then he began taking pain medications for a broken wrist. His drinking progressed to the point where he would wake-up during the night with DTs (delirium tremens). “It was a nightmare. I had to drink when I didn't want to drink, but I had to do it to feel normal,” he says. He stopped eating much. He was unemployed. He spent much of his time weeping and crying. “I knew I was in trouble, that I was destined for a big downfall but I didn't know how to get out.”
After a few years of excessive using and more stints in rehab, his wife called Stricker’s father for help. “My folks were deeply concerned for me. I was sick, bankrupt and addicted," he says. “I was desperate. I was trying to drink and they were trying to keep me from it. I went to any extent I could to do that.”
Finally, Stricker checked into the Veteran's hospital in Richmond, Va. “It was a two-week rehab and I thought I was going to die. The day before I was to go home, I was so depressed. I felt nothing was going to work, that I was just hopeless. Then I felt something stirring inside of me. I got in my little hospital bed and started to bawl. I started shaking and crying,” he says.
“I cried out to God and said, ‘God, please take this away from me, I'm dying, it's killing me, and I can't live without it,'” Stricker says. “I had never prayed to God before. I controlled my own destiny and everything was about me, but I prayed that day because I had nowhere else to turn, nowhere else to go.”
“Finally, I stopped crying and as I was laying there, I felt calm. I got up, pulled myself together. I felt a little better. I slowly started feeling this calmness come over me, a little peace and serenity . . . even a little joy,” he remembers.
“The next day my folks came and picked me up and I felt happy. I went home and went to a meeting. About a week or so later, the thought came, ‘I don't want to drink. I haven't wanted to drink. Wow. Where's the compulsion? The desire? Where did it go? There was nothing in the world that was stopping me,” he says. “Nothing in 30 years had ever stopped me from drinking — not rehabs, not counselors, not psychiatrists, not AA meetings, nothing. Not only did I not want to drink, but I didn't feel pain either.”
Stricker says it was a miracle, and he finally pieced together that he’d prayed and the compulsion had been removed. He’s never had a desire to drink since that October day in 1999. “It confirmed to me there was a God, that He was real and He does things,” he says.
Unfortunately, Stricker’s problems were not over. “Satan found a way back into my life,” he says, when he fell in love with a woman and was reintroduced to narcotic pain medications. He did have real pain and discovered he needed both of his hips replaced due to a rare disease. One of the causes was drinking alcohol. “I was overwhelmed, and in disbelief,” he says. “I felt condemned, crushed."
“The doctor put me on medication for the pain, and my addiction came back. I was hooked on the very same pills I was hooked on at 16,” he says. He had the first surgery, and convalesced at home, still abusing the medication and already “doctor shopping.” The pain was intense, but he got through it, and his right hip healed well. The second surgery was complicated by a post-procedure problem and the pain was agonizing. Stricker sued for malpractice, but lost.
“God knew if I had millions of dollars, it would be the end for me,” says Stricker. “In the end, I was too tired and too doped up to keep fighting. My life came to a point where I was suicidal," and he acted upon it. He was saved again, but didn’t understand why he was still alive. He cursed God, not knowing until later that God had saved him.
Stricker spent the next ten years being very sick, in a lot of pain and abusing pain medications. “I was on the edge of living and dying. I overdosed many times and I just don't know how I survived it other than God's mercy,” he says. “I had to go through such a nightmare and put the people around me through such a nightmare, such hell.”
“I finally looked in the mirror one day and had a revelation,” he says. “I went to a church and prayed again. I said, ‘I give it all to you God. Please take it.’ I left the old Jerry at the altar and walked out a free man.” He hasn’t taken any pain medication since.
In hindsight, Stricker says, “I never put it together or understood, but something was terribly wrong from the beginning. For most addictions, there's an underlying reason for it to begin. It's not like you're having this happy, go-lucky life and run into drugs and start using. You either are unhappy, something's missing from your life or your home life is bad so when you do find the drugs or alcohol, it fulfills you. You feel better. You feel like you belong. And this is the beginning of addiction because it gives you the sensation that you could do things you never could before. It gives you courage. And what leads to addiction is you want more because you never forget the feeling you got in the beginning so you use it more and more.”
As for the solution, he says, “I now know the answer to addiction is to find the spirit of God, because that is the only way we get well. I tried all the other ways, and they didn't work. The only successful people I know in the programs — and I've been in for decades — are people who have God in their lives and who work the steps.”
Good things happen when you surrender your will to the Lord,” says Stricker. “That's the key.”
A grandmother’s heartbreak
Kathy’s* 30-year-old grandson Tom* lives with her. A drug addict for over 10 years, Tom uses heroin, pills and “anything he can get his hands on.”
She doesn’t want him living with her, but doesn’t feel she has a choice. She has told him to leave, but he has nowhere to go but the streets. He is also unemployed. “My grandson is a felon so jobs are hard to find but then again he hasn’t looked for a while,” she says.
Tom was on state and federal probation for five years, but Kathy says the probation officers didn’t help him get a job during that time.
All of her valuable possessions have been stolen. “Tom is robbing me blind and I can’t keep my purse in sight or my money disappears. I can’t keep money period because I always have to hand it over to him so he can get his pills,” she says.
“I know you’re thinking that I’m at fault for giving him money but you don’t understand what I go through if I don’t give it to him,” says Kathy, adding it can cost her $80 to $100 a day. “I am the one suffering because I have to do without and my bills go unpaid.”
“But what do you do when there's no help out there for him? He has to be willing to go through rehabilitation but like most addicts, he doesn’t think he has a problem. The methadone clinic — been there, done that — just substitutes one drug for another,” she says. “It was just a cheaper way of getting high." She says Tom has done so much heroin, he no longer has a good vein in his arm.
Kathy says Tom’s mother went through mental health resources to try to have him committed. “In turn, they gave him top-notch representation and he won then laughed in his mom's face,” she says. “There's just nowhere to turn. I wish there were more resources. We need someplace we can lock them in for six months to a year until they’re cleaned up.”
“Everyday of my life is a struggle. Just waking up, I know what I have to go through every day. Living with a drug addict is no life at all,” says Kathy.
How does she cope, at age 60, with such stress and grief over what her grandson has become? “I feel as though I'm heading for another nervous breakdown,” she says.
Kathy says she really doesn’t know what causes addiction. “I think at first, it’s a choice but now I believe it’s a sickness.”
“I'm going to wake up and he's going to be dead. His heart's going to explode,” she says. “He doesn’t just do one pill, he snorts several at a time. When he's without, he's sick worse than the flu. His legs hurt really badly, he vomits and half the time, he doesn't even eat or bathe," she says. "It’s a terrible, terrible thing to have to live through and live with.”
Kathy’s* 30-year-old grandson Tom* lives with her. A drug addict for over 10 years, Tom uses heroin, pills and “anything he can get his hands on.”
She doesn’t want him living with her, but doesn’t feel she has a choice. She has told him to leave, but he has nowhere to go but the streets. He is also unemployed. “My grandson is a felon so jobs are hard to find but then again he hasn’t looked for a while,” she says.
Tom was on state and federal probation for five years, but Kathy says the probation officers didn’t help him get a job during that time.
All of her valuable possessions have been stolen. “Tom is robbing me blind and I can’t keep my purse in sight or my money disappears. I can’t keep money period because I always have to hand it over to him so he can get his pills,” she says.
“I know you’re thinking that I’m at fault for giving him money but you don’t understand what I go through if I don’t give it to him,” says Kathy, adding it can cost her $80 to $100 a day. “I am the one suffering because I have to do without and my bills go unpaid.”
“But what do you do when there's no help out there for him? He has to be willing to go through rehabilitation but like most addicts, he doesn’t think he has a problem. The methadone clinic — been there, done that — just substitutes one drug for another,” she says. “It was just a cheaper way of getting high." She says Tom has done so much heroin, he no longer has a good vein in his arm.
Kathy says Tom’s mother went through mental health resources to try to have him committed. “In turn, they gave him top-notch representation and he won then laughed in his mom's face,” she says. “There's just nowhere to turn. I wish there were more resources. We need someplace we can lock them in for six months to a year until they’re cleaned up.”
“Everyday of my life is a struggle. Just waking up, I know what I have to go through every day. Living with a drug addict is no life at all,” says Kathy.
How does she cope, at age 60, with such stress and grief over what her grandson has become? “I feel as though I'm heading for another nervous breakdown,” she says.
Kathy says she really doesn’t know what causes addiction. “I think at first, it’s a choice but now I believe it’s a sickness.”
“I'm going to wake up and he's going to be dead. His heart's going to explode,” she says. “He doesn’t just do one pill, he snorts several at a time. When he's without, he's sick worse than the flu. His legs hurt really badly, he vomits and half the time, he doesn't even eat or bathe," she says. "It’s a terrible, terrible thing to have to live through and live with.”
A veteran faces his addiction after coming home from the war
Louis* is a recovering addict who is still on pain medication today, only it's strictly monitored. He has been on prescription medications since coming home in 1970 from serving in the Vietnam War.
How bad is his pain?
“Imagine your worst day ever,” says Louis. "All I have to take is four pills and the world looks good."
"It was an escape mechanism," he acknowledges. "I went through therapy programs at the V.A. and I had a lot of flashbacks, but by using drugs past the point of what was prescribed, I could turn a bad day into a good day,” he says.
“When I was in the hospital, I was on Morphine, then they put me on Percocet, then the Hydrocodones, which don't work on me,” he says. “Move me over to Oxycodone, and it's a whole different story. You'll find a lot of other people like that. Seldom will you find someone whose body responds to both.”
“I've never gone on the street for any drugs and I had one shot of heroin one time,” says Louis. “This may sound a little bit ironic, but I heard about people dying from street drugs so I never went that route.”
He formerly used prescription medications such as Methadone and Oxycodone from two different doctors. “That's something a lot of us do is find numerous doctors,” he says. “We'll even set up false residences in other states to get narcotics from another doctor. I know people who go to as many as four different doctors.”
It was Louis’ doctor who told him he was addicted. “He told me I would have to take pain meds my whole life, and that I would be addicted to one or another,” he remembers. “When he said that, I thought, I got through three years of war, went to school, I'm a retired teacher of history . . . all this crap only to find out I'm addicted?”
Louis decided to test it out for himself. “For two days, I skipped my pills and tried to forget the pain, but I felt like a truck had run me over so I said forget this and took my dosage. I took a nap, woke up and bounced back,” he says.
He spent about seven years abusing medications. “I woke up one time in the hospital without any knowledge of what had happened. I didn't know if I'd done something and that's freaky, especially when it's three days later,” he says. “That was one of the things that set me straight.”
He remembers some of the repercussions. "I ended up in the hospital two or three times, hallucinating and other things,” he says. “The medication was controlling me rather than me controlling it.”
One day, Louis “just laid it out” for his doctor, who worked with him on lowering his dosages and getting him down to one medication and recommending a pain specialist. He also went through rehab, and says he is doing well. “My fiancee knows I'm addicted,” adds Louis, “and she has my pills hidden. I don't attempt to find them.”
Louis wishes he didn't need drugs at all. “I envy people who have the ability to generate inner energy and have a generally good outlook. I have a terminal disease, but I still have a prognosis that's going to give me some years. I envy people who can generate that without artificial means,” he says.
“Sometimes I'll be down on myself about taking medication but then I realize if I didn't use it, I couldn't live with the pain day in and day out,” he adds. “It not only caps my pain but helps me do things during the day. Without it, I'd be in a world of hurt and I wouldn't do anything or be productive.”
Louis* is a recovering addict who is still on pain medication today, only it's strictly monitored. He has been on prescription medications since coming home in 1970 from serving in the Vietnam War.
How bad is his pain?
“Imagine your worst day ever,” says Louis. "All I have to take is four pills and the world looks good."
"It was an escape mechanism," he acknowledges. "I went through therapy programs at the V.A. and I had a lot of flashbacks, but by using drugs past the point of what was prescribed, I could turn a bad day into a good day,” he says.
“When I was in the hospital, I was on Morphine, then they put me on Percocet, then the Hydrocodones, which don't work on me,” he says. “Move me over to Oxycodone, and it's a whole different story. You'll find a lot of other people like that. Seldom will you find someone whose body responds to both.”
“I've never gone on the street for any drugs and I had one shot of heroin one time,” says Louis. “This may sound a little bit ironic, but I heard about people dying from street drugs so I never went that route.”
He formerly used prescription medications such as Methadone and Oxycodone from two different doctors. “That's something a lot of us do is find numerous doctors,” he says. “We'll even set up false residences in other states to get narcotics from another doctor. I know people who go to as many as four different doctors.”
It was Louis’ doctor who told him he was addicted. “He told me I would have to take pain meds my whole life, and that I would be addicted to one or another,” he remembers. “When he said that, I thought, I got through three years of war, went to school, I'm a retired teacher of history . . . all this crap only to find out I'm addicted?”
Louis decided to test it out for himself. “For two days, I skipped my pills and tried to forget the pain, but I felt like a truck had run me over so I said forget this and took my dosage. I took a nap, woke up and bounced back,” he says.
He spent about seven years abusing medications. “I woke up one time in the hospital without any knowledge of what had happened. I didn't know if I'd done something and that's freaky, especially when it's three days later,” he says. “That was one of the things that set me straight.”
He remembers some of the repercussions. "I ended up in the hospital two or three times, hallucinating and other things,” he says. “The medication was controlling me rather than me controlling it.”
One day, Louis “just laid it out” for his doctor, who worked with him on lowering his dosages and getting him down to one medication and recommending a pain specialist. He also went through rehab, and says he is doing well. “My fiancee knows I'm addicted,” adds Louis, “and she has my pills hidden. I don't attempt to find them.”
Louis wishes he didn't need drugs at all. “I envy people who have the ability to generate inner energy and have a generally good outlook. I have a terminal disease, but I still have a prognosis that's going to give me some years. I envy people who can generate that without artificial means,” he says.
“Sometimes I'll be down on myself about taking medication but then I realize if I didn't use it, I couldn't live with the pain day in and day out,” he adds. “It not only caps my pain but helps me do things during the day. Without it, I'd be in a world of hurt and I wouldn't do anything or be productive.”
Food, drugs and alcohol: one woman's story of addiction to all three
“Once you cross the line into addiction, your life forever changes,” says Monica*. Now 61, she’s never been more clear about that statement.
Monica is a recovering addict and alcoholic but also battles a food addiction with which she still struggles.
“I lived in a very chaotic home growing up and at a very young age, I realized that candy and Twinkies made me feel better and put me in another world, and that has led me to where I am today,” says Monica.
“I have used food for comfort, eating when I’m not hungry because it tastes good and I don't have to think about anything else," she explains. "It's a double-edged sword — it tastes good but it makes me feel bad.”
At 17, Monica was already married but knew she had problems so she went for therapy with a psychiatrist. “He gave me medication, and the pills made me feel different — calmer — and I liked that,” she says. “He prescribed Valium then Xanax for my anxiety and I was a goner. Before long, I was completely addicted. Of course, many doctors will tell you these drugs are not addictive.”
During her second marriage, Monica continued to right her problems with medication, this time with Ativan. One day she decided to stop taking it, going cold turkey. She spent six months in horrible withdrawal and nearly died.
She managed to stay off the anxiety pills, but then needed foot surgery, and was introduced to the world of narcotics. “I went into a whole other zone with the narcotics,” Monica says. “I knew some people got sick from it, but it made me feel like I was in heaven.”
“Back then, if you had a doctor who was not monitoring the effects, he kept refilling your prescription,” she adds. “But there is a downside, where you start getting paranoid, and you then take more to get back to that original high, and it's a vicious cycle.”
Monica says her second husband sometimes used cocaine, but she was initially “dead against it” because they had two small children at the time and it was an illegal drug. He eventually persuaded her to try it and she realized what she’d been missing.
“It got to the point where if he had some cocaine, he would hide it from me and I would tear the house up looking for it, but I always found it,” she says. “My husband could use it recreationally and leave it alone. He did start drinking alcoholically, but the drugs never affected him in the same way. He didn't have that drug-seeking nature, whereas I was looking for something every day that would help me not feel depressed.”
“I used as much coke as I could to get that original high,” says Monica, but then it turned on her. “I was getting sick, I couldn't function, and it was hard to get up in the morning.” It also became unaffordable. She was forced to do without it, but another addiction was on the horizon.
On Monica’s thirtieth birthday, a friend took her out for a steak dinner and ordered her “one of the drinks with the little umbrellas,” she says. “For ten years after that, I drank alcoholically, and it opened up another world for me.”
Monica says it quickly escalated to the point where she started drinking in the morning as a “pick-me-up” from the night before and would then taper off when the children were due home from school and start again after they went to bed. “I was a stay-at-home mom, but not a good mother. I would meet them at the door when they got off the bus but I emotionally tuned them out because I was so active in my alcoholism,” she says.
She believes her husband played a part in keeping her drunk. After she got a job at a drug and alcohol rehabilitation center, she began to understand addiction. “I wanted to know about that. I went to some Alcoholics Anonymous meetings and I would tell my husband that I'm going to stop drinking and he'd come home with my favorite gin. We'd drink together,” she remembers.
Then, close to her fortieth birthday, Monica’s husband divorced her after cheating on her with his secretary. Monica drank daily for nine months afterwards and things quickly spiraled downward. One son got in trouble and was sentenced to a military prison while her other son joined the skinheads. She also lost her job and her car blew up. “It couldn't have been much worse. It all happened at once," she says, but it did help her hit bottom.
She remembers drinking a gallon of wine in three hours that last night, but she didn’t feel drunk nor did she understand how that was possible. It scared her. She dropped to her knees. “I said that prayer, ‘God help me,’ and I've always been a believer, so it was easy for me to pray and ask for help," says Monica.
Remembering some of the AA meetings she had attended while she was trying to get sober earlier, she knew where to go. “I went back and really listened this time. I knew I was going to die or make a change. And I heard somebody say something that is still with me today: ‘If you have five problems and you drink, you have six problems,’” she says.
That was 21 years ago. Since that time, she has clung to the program of recovery. “I finally felt I was home, that I belonged someplace. I never felt like I belonged anywhere. I made friends and they told me to keep coming back,” says Monica. “No one ever told me to come back.”
Thirteen years into Monica’s recovery, she had a hysterectomy and was sent home with two prescriptions of a narcotic. “I wasn't wary because I thought I was invincible,” she says. “I didn't think anything was going to happen to me.”
But she was wrong; her drug addiction had been triggered. Monica had given the pills to her partner, but then broke into his locked cabinet to get them. Even though the pain medication in the hospital was truly helping her pain, Monica realized it was now fueling her senses and altering how she was feeling, and she wanted more.
“I had broken into the cabinet, taken all the pills then went to the store looking for pills I could replace them with. I found some, came home and said the prayer again because I knew I was in very deep trouble again,” Monica says humbly. “I knew I couldn't get more pills and I was starting to think about drinking. I called my sponsor and she told me what to do, which was get to a meeting and tell my partner,” she says.
“I had a good life. I wasn't having emotional problems. It really surprised me I had this response but addiction is cunning and baffling. It hit me like a ton of bricks,” says Monica. She started going to Narcotics Anonymous in addition to her other meetings to deal with her drug addiction.
She is petrified of having any medical procedures that will require medication. “I have to be very, very careful about what I take,” she says.
The last addiction Monica battles is the one it all began with: food, especially sugar and refined carbohydrates. “I was aware of the food addiction before anything else,” she says. “In sixth grade, I tried to go on a no-Twinkie diet and that didn't work because I was still popping candy.”
“I really started piling on weight in sixth grade, and the other girls were thin and wearing cute clothes and I was chunky,” Monica remembers. “So on and off, I have dieted.”
Despite periods of success and learning some of her trigger foods, Monica has not been able to recover from this addiction. She has decided to get married next year after 18 years with her current partner. “I refuse to walk down the aisle fat, but more importantly, I want to feel better. Food changes how I feel . . . it's mood altering. It makes me feel good and bad. Sugar is a depressant. Once it hits you, you're up there but once you crash, it makes you depressed and cranky,” she says. “If I stick to my breakfast, and stick to my plan, I feel physically very good. If I eat sugar, I feel down in the dumps again.
Monica reflects on her life. “I think it's important to get involved in life and something you're passionate about. I'm focusing on things like that and it’s helping,” she says. “I am getting older. I want to change how I'm living.”
“Once you cross the line into addiction, your life forever changes,” says Monica*. Now 61, she’s never been more clear about that statement.
Monica is a recovering addict and alcoholic but also battles a food addiction with which she still struggles.
“I lived in a very chaotic home growing up and at a very young age, I realized that candy and Twinkies made me feel better and put me in another world, and that has led me to where I am today,” says Monica.
“I have used food for comfort, eating when I’m not hungry because it tastes good and I don't have to think about anything else," she explains. "It's a double-edged sword — it tastes good but it makes me feel bad.”
At 17, Monica was already married but knew she had problems so she went for therapy with a psychiatrist. “He gave me medication, and the pills made me feel different — calmer — and I liked that,” she says. “He prescribed Valium then Xanax for my anxiety and I was a goner. Before long, I was completely addicted. Of course, many doctors will tell you these drugs are not addictive.”
During her second marriage, Monica continued to right her problems with medication, this time with Ativan. One day she decided to stop taking it, going cold turkey. She spent six months in horrible withdrawal and nearly died.
She managed to stay off the anxiety pills, but then needed foot surgery, and was introduced to the world of narcotics. “I went into a whole other zone with the narcotics,” Monica says. “I knew some people got sick from it, but it made me feel like I was in heaven.”
“Back then, if you had a doctor who was not monitoring the effects, he kept refilling your prescription,” she adds. “But there is a downside, where you start getting paranoid, and you then take more to get back to that original high, and it's a vicious cycle.”
Monica says her second husband sometimes used cocaine, but she was initially “dead against it” because they had two small children at the time and it was an illegal drug. He eventually persuaded her to try it and she realized what she’d been missing.
“It got to the point where if he had some cocaine, he would hide it from me and I would tear the house up looking for it, but I always found it,” she says. “My husband could use it recreationally and leave it alone. He did start drinking alcoholically, but the drugs never affected him in the same way. He didn't have that drug-seeking nature, whereas I was looking for something every day that would help me not feel depressed.”
“I used as much coke as I could to get that original high,” says Monica, but then it turned on her. “I was getting sick, I couldn't function, and it was hard to get up in the morning.” It also became unaffordable. She was forced to do without it, but another addiction was on the horizon.
On Monica’s thirtieth birthday, a friend took her out for a steak dinner and ordered her “one of the drinks with the little umbrellas,” she says. “For ten years after that, I drank alcoholically, and it opened up another world for me.”
Monica says it quickly escalated to the point where she started drinking in the morning as a “pick-me-up” from the night before and would then taper off when the children were due home from school and start again after they went to bed. “I was a stay-at-home mom, but not a good mother. I would meet them at the door when they got off the bus but I emotionally tuned them out because I was so active in my alcoholism,” she says.
She believes her husband played a part in keeping her drunk. After she got a job at a drug and alcohol rehabilitation center, she began to understand addiction. “I wanted to know about that. I went to some Alcoholics Anonymous meetings and I would tell my husband that I'm going to stop drinking and he'd come home with my favorite gin. We'd drink together,” she remembers.
Then, close to her fortieth birthday, Monica’s husband divorced her after cheating on her with his secretary. Monica drank daily for nine months afterwards and things quickly spiraled downward. One son got in trouble and was sentenced to a military prison while her other son joined the skinheads. She also lost her job and her car blew up. “It couldn't have been much worse. It all happened at once," she says, but it did help her hit bottom.
She remembers drinking a gallon of wine in three hours that last night, but she didn’t feel drunk nor did she understand how that was possible. It scared her. She dropped to her knees. “I said that prayer, ‘God help me,’ and I've always been a believer, so it was easy for me to pray and ask for help," says Monica.
Remembering some of the AA meetings she had attended while she was trying to get sober earlier, she knew where to go. “I went back and really listened this time. I knew I was going to die or make a change. And I heard somebody say something that is still with me today: ‘If you have five problems and you drink, you have six problems,’” she says.
That was 21 years ago. Since that time, she has clung to the program of recovery. “I finally felt I was home, that I belonged someplace. I never felt like I belonged anywhere. I made friends and they told me to keep coming back,” says Monica. “No one ever told me to come back.”
Thirteen years into Monica’s recovery, she had a hysterectomy and was sent home with two prescriptions of a narcotic. “I wasn't wary because I thought I was invincible,” she says. “I didn't think anything was going to happen to me.”
But she was wrong; her drug addiction had been triggered. Monica had given the pills to her partner, but then broke into his locked cabinet to get them. Even though the pain medication in the hospital was truly helping her pain, Monica realized it was now fueling her senses and altering how she was feeling, and she wanted more.
“I had broken into the cabinet, taken all the pills then went to the store looking for pills I could replace them with. I found some, came home and said the prayer again because I knew I was in very deep trouble again,” Monica says humbly. “I knew I couldn't get more pills and I was starting to think about drinking. I called my sponsor and she told me what to do, which was get to a meeting and tell my partner,” she says.
“I had a good life. I wasn't having emotional problems. It really surprised me I had this response but addiction is cunning and baffling. It hit me like a ton of bricks,” says Monica. She started going to Narcotics Anonymous in addition to her other meetings to deal with her drug addiction.
She is petrified of having any medical procedures that will require medication. “I have to be very, very careful about what I take,” she says.
The last addiction Monica battles is the one it all began with: food, especially sugar and refined carbohydrates. “I was aware of the food addiction before anything else,” she says. “In sixth grade, I tried to go on a no-Twinkie diet and that didn't work because I was still popping candy.”
“I really started piling on weight in sixth grade, and the other girls were thin and wearing cute clothes and I was chunky,” Monica remembers. “So on and off, I have dieted.”
Despite periods of success and learning some of her trigger foods, Monica has not been able to recover from this addiction. She has decided to get married next year after 18 years with her current partner. “I refuse to walk down the aisle fat, but more importantly, I want to feel better. Food changes how I feel . . . it's mood altering. It makes me feel good and bad. Sugar is a depressant. Once it hits you, you're up there but once you crash, it makes you depressed and cranky,” she says. “If I stick to my breakfast, and stick to my plan, I feel physically very good. If I eat sugar, I feel down in the dumps again.
Monica reflects on her life. “I think it's important to get involved in life and something you're passionate about. I'm focusing on things like that and it’s helping,” she says. “I am getting older. I want to change how I'm living.”
An adult child of an alcoholic rallies for her own recovery
Sarah’s* father was an alcoholic and prescription drug abuser during her youth. There was also a lot of domestic violence in her house so her mother "was just surviving.” As an adult, Sarah shows all the typical symptoms of a child raised under those circumstances.
Moreover, Sarah says addiction has plagued her family. She has a brother who has struggled with heroin addiction, an uncle who was an alcoholic and a first cousin who was a heroin and crack cocaine user who died in his mid-forties. Her father, thankfully, is now in recovery for his addictions. Sarah struggles with “emotional eating” and believes that food is her drug.
“I am a classic adult child of an alcoholic. Codependency was rampant in my life,” admits Sarah, which she learned after starting therapy in her mid-twenties.
“I got into unhealthy relationships to fill the void that I didn't have with my own father,” she says. “I got married then divorced after a couple of years. It was toxic from the get-go, and wrong from the beginning. I take my share of the blame for that. It was clearly codependent.”
She didn’t get a good handle on her codependency until after her divorce, when she began to understand it. “When I divorced, it was my turn to get real about me,” she says.
“From that point, I struggled spiritually but then became actively involved in my faith, which has been an important part of my life. I also read a lot of books about codependency, and learned my flaws that assist in making relationships toxic,” says Sarah. Other books helped teach her about love, especially expressing love in appropriate ways.
“A few years ago, I really got a handle on understanding that just because people are my family doesn't mean I am obligated to them, so I started distancing myself,” she says. “In order for me to be healthy, I cannot be around them for long periods of time.”
“I have also re-evaluated my friendships . . . who I choose to have in my life and who I choose not to, based on how healthy they are for me. Stick me around a codependent person, and I can fall right back in, and I know that's not good for me. I've had to end relationships and it takes a lot of strength,” says Sarah.
“I’m now in my thirties and hate getting the lesson so late but I also think I was supposed to experience these things in my life at these intervals,” she says. “Even though I wish I would have learned it sooner, I wasn't meant to.”
Sarah is currently single and happy about it. “I believe that is what God has called me to today. Being a mom is not a part of that, at least not right now, but I love mentoring kids. And my relationships, all kinds, are healthy today,” she says.
“Do I desire to be married again? I don't think about that because I am happy with who I am and where I am. I'm not opposed to a healthy relationship, if the right person comes along, but I don't need a significant other to feel whole or fulfilled,” she says.
“I know my career is one place I'm meant to be. I’m in the social work field, so all the stuff I have learned has been so helpful in assisting adolescents in these same types of transitions,” says Sarah. “All my experiences benefit others. I feel that is a gift for me to give.”
Sarah’s* father was an alcoholic and prescription drug abuser during her youth. There was also a lot of domestic violence in her house so her mother "was just surviving.” As an adult, Sarah shows all the typical symptoms of a child raised under those circumstances.
Moreover, Sarah says addiction has plagued her family. She has a brother who has struggled with heroin addiction, an uncle who was an alcoholic and a first cousin who was a heroin and crack cocaine user who died in his mid-forties. Her father, thankfully, is now in recovery for his addictions. Sarah struggles with “emotional eating” and believes that food is her drug.
“I am a classic adult child of an alcoholic. Codependency was rampant in my life,” admits Sarah, which she learned after starting therapy in her mid-twenties.
“I got into unhealthy relationships to fill the void that I didn't have with my own father,” she says. “I got married then divorced after a couple of years. It was toxic from the get-go, and wrong from the beginning. I take my share of the blame for that. It was clearly codependent.”
She didn’t get a good handle on her codependency until after her divorce, when she began to understand it. “When I divorced, it was my turn to get real about me,” she says.
“From that point, I struggled spiritually but then became actively involved in my faith, which has been an important part of my life. I also read a lot of books about codependency, and learned my flaws that assist in making relationships toxic,” says Sarah. Other books helped teach her about love, especially expressing love in appropriate ways.
“A few years ago, I really got a handle on understanding that just because people are my family doesn't mean I am obligated to them, so I started distancing myself,” she says. “In order for me to be healthy, I cannot be around them for long periods of time.”
“I have also re-evaluated my friendships . . . who I choose to have in my life and who I choose not to, based on how healthy they are for me. Stick me around a codependent person, and I can fall right back in, and I know that's not good for me. I've had to end relationships and it takes a lot of strength,” says Sarah.
“I’m now in my thirties and hate getting the lesson so late but I also think I was supposed to experience these things in my life at these intervals,” she says. “Even though I wish I would have learned it sooner, I wasn't meant to.”
Sarah is currently single and happy about it. “I believe that is what God has called me to today. Being a mom is not a part of that, at least not right now, but I love mentoring kids. And my relationships, all kinds, are healthy today,” she says.
“Do I desire to be married again? I don't think about that because I am happy with who I am and where I am. I'm not opposed to a healthy relationship, if the right person comes along, but I don't need a significant other to feel whole or fulfilled,” she says.
“I know my career is one place I'm meant to be. I’m in the social work field, so all the stuff I have learned has been so helpful in assisting adolescents in these same types of transitions,” says Sarah. “All my experiences benefit others. I feel that is a gift for me to give.”
RESOURCE GUIDE FOR ADDICTS AND THEIR FAMILIES
It takes enormous courage and strength for people to admit they have an addiction. No one should be ashamed or try to go it alone. Addiction does not discriminate, and can affect anyone. While it might feel overwhelming, millions of people and their families have gone through the recovery process and are leading successful lives free of addiction. Recovery is possible with the right help and social support. Use the following local and national resources to help determine the best route for recovery.
For drug addicts or alcoholics having an emergency, always call 911.
Guide to Anonymous 12-Step Recovery Programs
Every 12-step program has a Web site with an overview of its program and meeting locator. Use these identifiers to understand what types of programs are available.
Al-Anon/Alateen (for friends and family members of alcoholics)
AA - Alcoholics Anonymous
AAA - All Addicts Anonymous
ACOA (for adult children of alcoholics)
CA - Cocaine Anonymous
CLA - Clutterers Anonymous
CMA - Crystal Meth Anonymous
CoDA - Co-Dependents Anonymous
Co-Anon (for friends and family of addicts)
COSA - Codependents of Sex Addicts
COSLAA - CoSex and Love Addicts Anonymous
DA - Debtors Anonymous
EA - Emotions Anonymous
EHA - Emotional Health Anonymous
FA - Families Anonymous
GA - Gamblers Anonymous
Gam-Anon/Gam-A-Teen (for friends and family members of problem gamblers)
MA - Marijuana Anonymous
NA - Narcotics Anonymous
NAIL - Neurotics Anonymous
Nar-Anon (for friends and family members of addicts)
NicA - Nicotine Anonymous
OA - Overeaters Anonymous
OLGA - Online Gamers Anonymous
SA - Sexaholics Anonymous
SAA - Sex Addicts Anonymous
SCA - Sexual Compulsives Anonymous
SA - Smokers Anonymous
SLAA - Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous
SIA - Survivors of Incest Anonymous
WA - Workaholics Anonymous
Sober Recovery (www.soberrecovery.com) provides access to a wide range of treatment approaches and recovery assistance. There are links to inpatient and outpatient rehab and treatment centers, rapid detoxification centers, 12-step programs and online recovery support meetings, which provide direct, 24-hour-a-day support.
Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration’s (SAMHSA) National Helpline offers information on substance use disorder issues and referral to treatment, in English and Spanish, 24 hours a day at (800) 662-4357 or (800) 487-4889 (TDD), or visit www.samhsa.gov. The locator includes more than 11,000 addiction treatment programs, including residential treatment centers, outpatient treatment programs, and hospital inpatient programs for drug addiction and alcoholism. Listings include treatment programs for marijuana, cocaine, and heroin addiction, as well as drug and alcohol treatment programs for adolescents and adults.
Celebrate Recovery is a Christ-centered 12-step recovery program. Visit https://www.celebraterecovery.com for more information.
The National Council on Problem Gambling in Washington, DC estimates that two to three percent of the population—6 million to 9 million Americans—will suffer from a serious gambling problem in any given year. If you or someone you know needs help with a gambling problem, call the National Problem Gambling Helpline at (800) 522-4700 (24-hour confidential national hotline) or go to www.NCPGambling.org.
Arnie & Sheila Wexler Associates, certified compulsive gambling counselors, offers consultation, interventions, group, individual and family counseling, couple's workshops, referrals, evaluations and expert testimony. They also provide educational seminars, workshops and training. As their goal is to raise awareness of those who are in a position to help compulsive gamblers and their families, they serve these populations: addiction treatment centers, mental health professionals, legal and judicial professionals, EAPs, state human services agencies, colleges and universities, gaming industry personnel, legislators, law enforcement agencies, individuals and their families, and state and federal governments. Call 1-888-LAST-BET or visit www.aswexler.com for more information.
It takes enormous courage and strength for people to admit they have an addiction. No one should be ashamed or try to go it alone. Addiction does not discriminate, and can affect anyone. While it might feel overwhelming, millions of people and their families have gone through the recovery process and are leading successful lives free of addiction. Recovery is possible with the right help and social support. Use the following local and national resources to help determine the best route for recovery.
For drug addicts or alcoholics having an emergency, always call 911.
Guide to Anonymous 12-Step Recovery Programs
Every 12-step program has a Web site with an overview of its program and meeting locator. Use these identifiers to understand what types of programs are available.
Al-Anon/Alateen (for friends and family members of alcoholics)
AA - Alcoholics Anonymous
AAA - All Addicts Anonymous
ACOA (for adult children of alcoholics)
CA - Cocaine Anonymous
CLA - Clutterers Anonymous
CMA - Crystal Meth Anonymous
CoDA - Co-Dependents Anonymous
Co-Anon (for friends and family of addicts)
COSA - Codependents of Sex Addicts
COSLAA - CoSex and Love Addicts Anonymous
DA - Debtors Anonymous
EA - Emotions Anonymous
EHA - Emotional Health Anonymous
FA - Families Anonymous
GA - Gamblers Anonymous
Gam-Anon/Gam-A-Teen (for friends and family members of problem gamblers)
MA - Marijuana Anonymous
NA - Narcotics Anonymous
NAIL - Neurotics Anonymous
Nar-Anon (for friends and family members of addicts)
NicA - Nicotine Anonymous
OA - Overeaters Anonymous
OLGA - Online Gamers Anonymous
SA - Sexaholics Anonymous
SAA - Sex Addicts Anonymous
SCA - Sexual Compulsives Anonymous
SA - Smokers Anonymous
SLAA - Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous
SIA - Survivors of Incest Anonymous
WA - Workaholics Anonymous
Sober Recovery (www.soberrecovery.com) provides access to a wide range of treatment approaches and recovery assistance. There are links to inpatient and outpatient rehab and treatment centers, rapid detoxification centers, 12-step programs and online recovery support meetings, which provide direct, 24-hour-a-day support.
Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration’s (SAMHSA) National Helpline offers information on substance use disorder issues and referral to treatment, in English and Spanish, 24 hours a day at (800) 662-4357 or (800) 487-4889 (TDD), or visit www.samhsa.gov. The locator includes more than 11,000 addiction treatment programs, including residential treatment centers, outpatient treatment programs, and hospital inpatient programs for drug addiction and alcoholism. Listings include treatment programs for marijuana, cocaine, and heroin addiction, as well as drug and alcohol treatment programs for adolescents and adults.
Celebrate Recovery is a Christ-centered 12-step recovery program. Visit https://www.celebraterecovery.com for more information.
The National Council on Problem Gambling in Washington, DC estimates that two to three percent of the population—6 million to 9 million Americans—will suffer from a serious gambling problem in any given year. If you or someone you know needs help with a gambling problem, call the National Problem Gambling Helpline at (800) 522-4700 (24-hour confidential national hotline) or go to www.NCPGambling.org.
Arnie & Sheila Wexler Associates, certified compulsive gambling counselors, offers consultation, interventions, group, individual and family counseling, couple's workshops, referrals, evaluations and expert testimony. They also provide educational seminars, workshops and training. As their goal is to raise awareness of those who are in a position to help compulsive gamblers and their families, they serve these populations: addiction treatment centers, mental health professionals, legal and judicial professionals, EAPs, state human services agencies, colleges and universities, gaming industry personnel, legislators, law enforcement agencies, individuals and their families, and state and federal governments. Call 1-888-LAST-BET or visit www.aswexler.com for more information.
