I found out this year that my 19 year old daughter is a full blown drug addict. This has been one of the darkest times of my life. I still don't have any answers but I am attending nar-anon meetings regularly and I am learning to try and deal with it as best as I can. I worry a lot about my youngest son and how witnessing all of his sister's shenanigans will affect him. A day in the life of a drug addict is maddening and tiring. There is no lie she won't tell, nothing is sacred. You never know if she is going to be in a good mood or on a terrorizing down slide. She is incapable of holding down a job and the only friends she makes are usually black, drug dealer types.
I found out this life shattering information one night around 10 pm when I received a phone call from her boyfriend. He asked if I had heard from her that evening. I thought she was with him. She had been staying with him (or so I thought) for about a week. He thought she was home. About 10 minutes later he called back to tell me that she was in jail. Apparently she was out on a week long drug binge with god knows who and where, but at this point she was pulled over by FSP for erratic driving and she and her passenger, a drug dealer, were searched and oxycontin was found in her car. She was arrested and charged with a felony drug possession and placed in the Orange County jail.
That rude awakening was the beginning of a nightmare that never ends. The next morning I went to her arraignment. She literally looked like walking death. At barely 100 lbs. the mostly male, mostly black inmate lineup for court towered over her. She looked so frail. Her skin was waxy looking and she had dark circles under her eyes from days of no sleep. It was then that reality hit me and I realized she looked like every poster child for drug addiction.
Her bail was set and I faced the dilemma of whether or not to get her out. I decided not to pay her bail because I knew that, having never been in trouble before, more than likely she would be released on her own recognizance and I wanted to send the message that it wasn't alright with me to subject everyone to this behavior. Let me tell you it was tough. She called crying and begging me to get her out more than once. I don't think I've ever cried so much as I did in those two days, but they did release her on her own and as soon as I found out I drove down to the jail to get her. They told me that she had just left with a black gentleman. Great. The drug dealer picked her up. Nice. So began the day of chasing her.
I called her several times and she was adamant that she was not coming home. She felt betrayed that I wouldn't bail her out of jail. I begged, I cried and I worried. I don't know if her conscience kicked in or if the drugs ran out, but she finally agreed to come home. She wouldn't let me pick her up though, she had someone bring her home.
When she came in, after the crying on both of our parts, then began the confessions. I swear I would wish the emotions that I went through that day on no human being on earth. Everything she told me was like a new dagger each time sticking straight into my heart. She told me how she had started smoking marijuana when she was 16. She said at 17 one of her friend's uncle introduced her to heroin. I couldn't believe in Henry County, Kentucky, backwoods small-town America, that these things could go on unnoticed. How could MY daughter, whom was loved and taken care of, be doing these low-life insane things to herself?
She told me that she had weaned herself off of heroin and began using oxycontin, and at the present she was snorting and shooting up oxycontin in amounts that would kill most humans.
I gave her a choice - rehab or never being allowed in my house again. She picked rehab. I think at that point she was tired and really wanted to get better.
I found a rehab in the eastern mountains of Kentucky that would take her in a 90 day program that, with a lot of stretching and even borrowing from my parents, I could manage to pay for.
I was scheduled the next day to attend a class for work in Seattle, Wa and could not back out of it. It was 4 days long and I don't even remember much of it. All I could think about was what was going on at home. I knew she was going through withdrawals and I left it up to my husband to get her on the plane to Kentucky. My parents were going to meet the facility people at the airport when they picked her up. I was anxious and nervous that I had to leave everything in other people's hands, but what other choice did I have?
The transition went well and I called every day for an update for the first week. I guess the first five days were really rough on her. She stayed in bed and they took turns taking her water to keep her hydrated. On the fourth day they made her get up and eat a little breakfast. After that, things seemed to progress well. I was hopeful, even though all of the literature that I read, and I read everything I could get my hands on, told me that heroin and opiate addictions were the most likely to relapse and only 3% ever fully recovered. 3% isn't very encouraging, but in the beginning, before you are educated, hope comes easy.
I flew up to see her three weeks later. She seemed happy and remorseful. I was sad for the situation but happy to see her clean and so full of hope. I left the facility thinking things were going to be ok.
The following month she was allowed an overnight pass to stay with me when I flew up to see her. My parents drove to Frankfort and we met them there for dinner. It was very nice. Everyone was so happy and the conversation was all so upbeat and full of hope. Shelby seemed like her old self.
The next month still seemed to be progressing well. When I talked to her she was always into the program and making plans for her future. I was happy. I made plans to take vacation the week she was to be released and made reservations for a cabin in the Smokey Mountains. Her high school boyfriend, whom she had gone with for two years but broken up with a year ago when she got so deep into drugs, wanted to see her and she wanted to see him. They decided that he would go to the mountains with us. Everything was set.
Then I got the call. Two days before her release the program facilitator called me to tell me that Shelby had been trusted, as a senior resident, to shuttle another girl to an appointment. Both girls had gone out and gotten high. They had brought drugs back to the facility and were both on restriction. Shelby told them that she was walking out. Being of age and not being under court order to be there, there was nothing I could do. I talked to her. I tried to reason with her. She said the other girls were mad at her and told her that she was a danger to them and didn't want her there. With a drug addict, you never know what to believe. They will say anything to keep you from being mad or suspecting them. At any rate, she walked away from treatment, two days before her release, with $9 in her pocket.
It was another day of waiting to hear from her. Another day of crying, wondering and cursing my very existence. She finally called. She was with a girl that was in rehab but walked out the week before. She lived locally and Shelby stayed the night with her. She begged me to come and get her. I told her that I would only if she would get back into treatment here at home. She agreed and I went and picked her up.
We went to the mountains and things seemed to be ok. She was clean and so happy that her old boyfriend was there. They began making big plans for him to move to Orlando and go to school so that they could be together.
The entire time we were in Gatlinburg she attended her twelve step meetings and was intent on staying clean. We talked, laughed and had a good time. The day we left to come home was hard. She and her boyfriend were sad but they planned to talk daily until he moved down.
The first week at home was tense. She behaved, went to meetings, stayed home at night and talked to Adrian (bf) on the phone.
Then the bottom fell out again. He called her and told her that he had changed his mind. He didn't want to move down after all and so they broke up. She was absolutely devastated. She went into a spiral and took off again. She ran back to the boyfriend she had when she left for rehab. The one that the relationship was based on drug use and misery loving company.
So here we are now. I'm miserable. She's miserable. We're all miserable. I go to my meetings and I am trying to learn to be happy despite the fact that I have a daughter addicted to drugs, but every day is still a struggle. I don't think things will ever be ok again. All I can do is hope for some kind of a divine intervention or an epiphany for her. We'll see.
