Struggling To Get Out Of The Drug Life Since 12 And I Might Finally Be Out... Maybe.

When I first turned 11, I started hanging out with a lot of older people because I liked them better than the kids in my grade and I thought they were way cooler. A short time after my 12th birthday, a friend my age called and told me to come to this older guy's house, and when I did he got us to try a couple hits of weed. I liked it a lot and since that day I became a little "stoner" and smoked weed every day. I started getting really bad grades and caring less. I started getting around more and more bad kids, that's when I started doing pills, before I knew it, I was hooked on percocet, xanax, and vicoden. I also started doing ecstasy and oxycotin a lot.

I took one of my best friend's to a drug dealer's house and we partied there. We took six pills each, and there were two fifth's of vodka shared between 3 people. The drug dealer and I were perfectly fine, but my friend couldn't function right, we were both high and drunk so we couldn't tell there was anything wrong with her. She ended up overdosing, she was sent to the hospital and thanks to god and doctors, she survived. My mom found out that I was doing drugs that night and she locked me up in the house and stayed with me while I went through withdrawals. When I went back to school, there was a girl in my lunch hour making rumors that I drugged the girl that overdosed, so I punched her in the face and got suspended, when I left school, my mom made the mistake of letting me out of the house and she started trusting me again. I got back on drugs, but worse this time, I would go to strangers' houses that I met on the internet and do drugs with them. One night I went to this girl's house in St. Louis and this guy said he had good ****, so I went to the bathroom and he pulled out a bag of heroin. I told the guy I didn't mess with that but he quickly talked me into it. When he pulled out a needle, spoon, and lighter, I quickly started to change my mind, but I was really searching for a high that was up a level from my weed and pills, I was worried about sharing a needle, but apparently not worried enough. I didn't exactly know how to shoot it up so he did it for me, when he put the needle in my arm, I just stared at it for a minute, and he asked me if I was okay, I shook my head up and down and I saw some of my blood in the syringe suddenly, then it hit me, I remember him grabbing at one of my arms, I think I was falling, but I'm not sure. I felt heat going through my body, and I just felt gone, not on Earth at all. Ever since that night, I was staying with more strangers, and starting to use heroin more and more, after only a couple of weeks, I was using H daily. I have a boyfriend that would get on his knees, cry, and beg me to stop doing heroin, and I just wouldn't, for a while, I felt like no one would or could stop me. Losing money for my habit sort of scared me, but my fear wasn't that huge because I could get some for free (no, not for sex, I was very liked).

I remember the misery of dope starting to kick in after a while... How I didn't like having to depend on it, if I didn't have it, I was miserable, and I was still miserable when I did have it. I felt sluggish and ashamed, unmotivated to do anything, the high wasn't the same anymore. I sometimes wanted to die. I was losing my real friends, also. I remember going to shoot up in the bathroom in 8th grade, 2nd hour, and I sat in front of one of my really good friends, and I would always nod off and he could tell there was something wrong with me and he always try poking me and talking to me, and I just couldn't act right, I can't believe none of my teachers ever noticed, but I remember my gym teacher, Mr. Kirk is awesome, I never dressed out for gym or did anything, and I was always high as ****, I think he always knew there was something up and just didn't know what to say or do.

One day I took a bunch of percocet because I couldn't get any H, and it just wouldn't do **** for me. I remember going back to my mom's house after I bought and took the percocet and I was looking in the mirror, I realized I looked terrible, my hair, my face, my hands, my body, nothing was the same, I looked dead. I rolled up the sleeves of my shirt and stared at my arms and cried and cried and cried. I was only 13, arms covered in little bumps from needles. That's the moment I realized I needed help, but I didn't know how to tell my mom. I was in a really bad mood, the pills (that already couldn't replace the feeling of my DOC) were waring off and I was needing my dope, I remember I was arguing with my mom about I don't even remember what, and she looked at me and said "What the **** is wrong with you? You don't look the same. You look like a ******* heroin addict." Which was weird, because she was correct, I had to walk out of the room, and I cried some more. I remember I started puking and I had all these indescribable pains, and my mom had no clue what to do, she had no clue what was wrong. But she figured I was back on drugs. I slept for two days straight, I only woke up feeling terrible again, freezing but drenched in my own sweat. My boyfriend came over and he held me and I cried in his arms for hours, then I told him I had to get what I needed, and he told me no and that he wouldn't let me, I was freaking out but he told me it was for my own good. When my boyfriend left, I called my dad and told him to come pick me up because my mom was frustrating me. When he did and I got to the house I lied on the couch, and cried and shook, and his girlfriend, who is a recovered meth addict knew what was wrong, she cried with me for a really long time and we talked about getting help. When I went back to my mom's she took me to a doctor check-up, the doctor found out that I was really depressed and coming off of drugs, and she wanted to send me to Ketler (a mental health asylum for minors), but my mom refused and the doctor called DCFS and they told me I have to get some kind of help or they would take my brother and I away because the way I was living wasn't good for my mom or brother to be around, and that motivated me more to get help. But, while I was on the waiting list for rehab, I did plenty of drugs. My boyfriend and I broke up because I cheated on him. Life wasn't going good.

I finally got help, I went to rehab in Carbondale, Illinois. I spent my 14th birthday locked up in there and I was very mad about that but at least I was clean on my birthday and that's one of the best gifts someone can give me.

It's been months since I've gotten out of rehab, and I've graduated from outpatient and I'm doing good, but sometimes I feel like I should just do it again, but then I remember how I used to be, and I stop those thoughts.

I don't really know what to do...
What if these thoughts get stronger and I cave in? I don't want to stop doing good, and I know if I do it one more time, it will all go down-hill from there, because, in my opinion, once an addict, always an addict...
thisgirlrighthereee thisgirlrighthereee
13-15, F
1 Response Nov 21, 2012

You are a slave to your thoughts.
If you believe you can overcome it and live life happily you can but you need enough courage and determination. There are people around you who want the best for you but you have to allow them to help you first. If you dont want to help yourself you will soon vanish forever. There is still hope.