Addiction stories seem to have an impact that objective research can never have. This is another in a series of addiction stories submitted by our readers. I hope that everyone will benefit from learning about others’ experiences. There’s no doubt that Bambi’s experience of escalation in use from what seemed initially innocent is a common one. If you, or someone you know, needs help with their opiate addiction, try our rehab-finder for the best way to get reliable, verified, rehab recommendations.
A harrowing tale of heroin addiction:
When most people hear the word heroin, some things come to mind. Those of you who have never even thought of doing a drug like heroin, would never understand. And for those of you who you know who you are, whether you have found your way out, or are slowly still slipping away… Believe me, if you know who you are, then you know how it is. Realizing you’re addicted to something doesn’t hit you, until you mentally find your way out by accepting what has happened and letting go with only one hell of a memory.
This is my story…
A friend of mine, that I have been friends with since kindergarten, first introduced me to opiates at the end of my last year in high school. I was aware that my friend, B, had done Oxycontin (OC’s) before and really liked them, but had only done them a couple of times. This was as new for him, as it was to me when he first asked me if I would ever try some. Keep in mind, B has always been my best friend, and I could tell him things that I couldn’t even think about telling anyone else.
It all started with one single evening. It was around 9 pm and I remember sitting on my bed having this strange, curious feeling. A feeling that was unfamiliar to me, even at my age of 17 at the time. I picked up my phone and dialed my friend B. He quickly answered, as if he was waiting beside his phone, just waiting for my call. I simply told him I wanted to try OC. He replied that he was just about to call me and that he had two OC’s on him and that he would be at my place in 10 minutes.
When he got to my house we went straight to the basement, put on a movie, and both sat at the table. He took the two OC’s out of his pocket, laid them on the table, and then smiled at me. The two greenish pills looked so intriguing, with the letters OC on one side, and with 80 on the other. He popped an 80 into his mouth, and when he took it out, it was white with no coating on anymore. He split it in quarters and gave me one to crush up, while he crushed up his own quarter. I busted the little white chunk into powder, then made two lines. I was more than ready to try this.
I rolled up a crisp twenty, and blew the line. At first I felt my nose sting, close my eyes and opened them only to have him staring at me with the biggest grin on his face. That was the first line of any form of dope that I had ever sniffed up my nose.
Probably, after all this, the best line I have ever sniffed up my nose to this day.
Within 5 minutes, I felt like I had a nice warm blanket on me. I had the butterflies in my stomach and they felt great. I sniffed the remaining line, and slowly collapsed onto my futon to watch whatever we had thrown into the DVD player. It didn’t matter what I was watching because honestly, I could have sat in front of a blank wall and still have been content. If I knew what a million bucks felt like, it would have felt the way I felt that night. I was extremely social, very happy, and felt amazing all throughout my body. Later that night when the movie ended, we were totally awake, but kept nodding out. When you do a line of OC, no matter what, you will become happy, and I can guarantee that because I’m sure anyone would agree. The rest of the night just seemed to fall into place as I itched the little comfortable itches I had all over my body. And that was the first time I have ever touched the stuff.
Within the next month, I sniffed some OC maybe twice or three times with B after that night. I never thought for one second that either B or me, would ever become addicted to that stuff. I just had this thought in the back of my mind that becoming addicted to something is a mental habit, when you want to stop, you stop and that’s the end of it.
About four months after that first night, my thoughts were beginning to change about how I felt about OC’s… I ******* loved them! I was at the point where I was actually unhappy if I couldn’t get some OC to blow. Of Course B could get them for me, that seemed to be all he did in his spare time by this point. Everyday was the same for him, wake up half numbed from last night, and figure out how to get more. Then once he had a steady connect, he was getting them about 10 at a time. Five for him to blow himself, and five for him to sell, which he then took that money and bought more with. Running around constantly making deals with people simply just to fuel the fire. Between buying OC’s and selling some for more, he was breaking even with profit just to support the quickly formed habit. If only it stopped here…
OC’s were becoming expensive, and of course by this time, our tolerance was growing. I was getting maybe two OC’s a week, and blowing a full 80 through the course of 3 days or so…I know, this is still just the beginning. One day B called me up and said he wasn’t getting OC’s anymore, but instead, was getting bags. He explained to me that he could now pick up a bomb of dope. A bomb of dope? What the hell is a bomb of dope I remember asking myself. I quickly found that out.
This is a moment in my life when things changed for ever.
I did a bag of dope. These were small bags of heroin that was an off white color. I loved the taste, loved the way it made me feel. Similar to OC, it made me feel AMAZING! Heroin seemed like the next best thing compared to OC, hell, it might have even been better. The funny thing is, I never once stopped and thought to myself, wow, I enjoy sniffing heroin and I probably have just done OC or dope everyday for the last couple week’s straight. No, every time I thought about the fact that I was not only doing heroin, I loved it and didn’t even want to fathom how I would feel without being high on dope. I loved being high on dope and would do anything to get high. Since that very first night, my opinion about sniffing this amazing dust only continued to grow right in front of my own eyes the whole time. Nobody knew about me doing heroin, except B, and of course, he was always a step ahead of me. He got bags for me and that’s just how it was. We lived day by day, each day with the priority to get dope only becoming more important. Without realizing how addicting we were becoming, everything just seemed to be better. Us? Getting addicted to heroin?
Pssshht, yeah right…
At the time, I laughed at that comment and said ‘no way, I will stop when I want to’, famous last words.
So this whole time B and I have only fallen deeper into this rut which seemed to never end. All B did was hustle bags to support his own habit, while he was making free bags plus extra money to pay for the next dope purchase. This can truly be the most lucrative business we both were finding out. By this time, I was going with B to A-town’s block to pick up the bombs. We would make the trip to A-town almost everyday. It was all just too simple, we were paying sixty, sometimes seventy, per bomb, which each bomb contained 10 bags of joy. We would make a phone call, and his dude, which slowly somehow became my dude, would meet us 15 minutes later and we’d be scott free driving back to one of our houses to only rip into the bombs we had just picked up and get so high to the point where we would sit there and nod off and think about nothing, literally.
When B wasn’t around to get bags, which was barely ever, I would pick them up myself just because I began to want it for myself that bad. At this point, I could stroll through A-town, pick up as much heroin as I could buy, and get high. I didn’t care about anything, and frankly I started to not give a s*** about anybody either. This is truly a part in my life which I am embarrassed about. For some reason, everytime I thought of doing dope, I felt guilty almost, but that just made me want to get more dope three times as bad.
I specifically remember driving down the highway with B one day. He turned to me and said ‘do you realize what we are doing…We are ruining our lives’…We just sat there and stared down the road. We both knew how f***** we were, it was just a matter of what was going to happen next. Well…time just went on.
When I turned 18, as much as I hated to admit it, I was a full blown heroin junkie. I know that’s a strong word, but only another junkie can put a heroin addiction into perspective. I was spending 140 or more a day on it, picking up 20-30 bags at a time, sometimes up to 50 bags. I would sell them to other close friends that B would hook me up with. Now I was breaking even only to support who I was becoming. The people that B would originally sell his bags to were all close friends, and over the past months, we weren’t the only two people that had found ourselves in a giant fire only being fueled by heroin. Somehow, for certain people, dope swept across our area and it was the most devastating thing I have ever witnessed to this day. Everyone started to try dope, especially a couple of my close friends. When I began to see other people beside B or me get involved with dope, that’s when I truly realized how heroin gains a powerless grasp on people which some people simply never get to free that hold.
This is the point in my life where I feel I hit rock bottom. I had this secret lifestyle that nobody knew about except B. Even if I told my parents or girlfriend that I have been addicted to heroin for the last year, that would sound so absurd that they would think I was joking. How could I tell anyone anyway, after all this time? I would wake up and immediately blow a bag off my laptop. I would feel good, but then only an hour later at tops would I be starting to think of when I’m gonna go to get high again. That’s all I thought about, even though I knew deep inside, “I’m addicted to heroin.” I wasn’t telling myself that I’ll just stop when I want to anymore. I knew how f***** up I was and how dope had her strong hold on me. I would blow a line of dope off anything I could at the time, a cell phone, mirror, wherever I was and whatever I was doing, I just couldn’t wait to get high again. I would randomly come and go, just going wherever the dope took me. I would run into my bathroom and blow a line on the counter top, come out acting like a just took a s***, I’d be walking, almost hopping between strides. The sad thing was, I knew my other good friends were becoming like me, and I had the feeling that B was just completely f***** by this point.
I couldn’t tell anyone ’cause I knew this wasn’t going to be easy and it was all on me. If I had felt this bad a year later doing it day after day just taking a day at a time, I could only wonder how B was doing, a step ahead of me of course, like always. B and I slowly began to talk to each other less and less. We both slowly fell into a routine that only involved ourselves and that goddamn dope. Money being borrowed between us had started an argument that wasn’t worth solving. It was an argument between two best friends, about heroin and that’s it.
One doesn’t realize how the mind changes to make dope the number one priority over a period of time, but it does. It changes the way you think and how you think. It makes you do anything just to get another bag. Its always just another bag. You can tell I was in deep at this point, well I was…but sadly not even past the worst part.
Then the day that I knew was coming, finally came. B sent me a text that said that I wouldn’t see him for a little while. He checked himself into a rehabilitation center with his parents consent. This was the point where I realized this is no way to live and for the first time in a year, I felt the slightest feeling deep in my gut to stop doing the dope. I knew that I couldn’t continue like this and B was right, I need to detox as well. The day after he text me that, his phone seemed to be off. B’s phone is never off. I felt like the only way I could even think about stopping is to do one last bomb, bad idea, I know that now.
I called my dude up, same spot, same as always, 25 mins. That’s just how it was, if I needed dope, call him up and I would have it in my hands within the hour. I picked it up and told him straight up, “You’re not gonna see me coming around here anymore bro, this is my time where I need to get my s*** together and go home. My vacation for the last year is coming to an end.” He said OK and that was that. After I picked up that bomb that day, I deleted my dude’s number. Of course you know what happened next, I got completely dipped one last time and it felt amazing, that night I went to sleep kind of scared about what’s going to happen next, but still so high on dope I nodded right off into a blissful dope-sleep.
When I woke up that morning, I tried to not think about dope at all, uhhh yeah that didn’t work too well. But at least I kept telling myself that. I always heard of dope withdrawal, but I never took it into account for myself. You can’t. No one can imagine how insanely wretched and nasty that withdrawing from heroin is unless they experience it. Again, you know who you are. By the end of the day I was not feeling myself at all, I suddenly felt as if I was becoming cold and getting goosebumps every second. I was irritated like a SOB. That night I laid in bed, tossed and turned in sweat as I froze my a** off. Little did I know, absolute f****** hell was just about to turnover.
With the little sleep I got that night, I slowly awoke feeling completely tired. Too tired to do anything, I literally have never been so depressed ever. I knew what I was going through, I actually planned what days I would be withdrawing so I knew every second that I was closer to feeling normal. There is nothing worse than withdrawal from heroin. The next 4 days were pure hell. I don’t even think I was in my right state of mind. I tried to do everything to get through the pain as quick as I could. Well, unfortunately, withdrawing for a week or so feels like 2 years of absolute terrible, gut wrenching pain all throughout your body. The worse part of it all was laying in bed at night. My mind racing, my legs kicking over and over, no position feeling the slightest bit comfortable. I would get hot flashes all throughout my body when I even put covers on top of me, breaking out in sweat instantly. Then rip the covers off hastily, as my body changed from two extreme body temperatures within 3 seconds. I would instantly freeze with no covers at all. Every minute tossing and turning in my bed, constantly awake and going through every agonizing second. The last 3 nights I didn’t sleep at all. I was awake the whole night, sweating, freezing, worst cramps in the world, my blood feeling like its on fire inside of me, just lying there, kicking my legs and whipping my arms around hopelessly.
At the time, I would have shot myself If there was a gun next to me. I would have literally wanted to shoot myself and end my life, just to take away this never-ending pain from within. Well, there’s nothing you can do about withdrawal, of course methadone and suboxone would help, but I quit cold turkey. The withdrawal was so terrible that I finally felt free after the symptoms slightly subsided. It was such a pain-staking 5 days of my life that afterward, I didn’t even want to touch dope ever again. I had finally felt relieved.
About 8 days later, I started to come out of my room. I almost felt like a weight was just lifted off my shoulders and felt like I had just been baptized or something. It was epic. I haven’t talked to B since I went through hell, his phone has been off. Then on the 9th day he text me and It read,’ I’m back’. B was home from rehab where he experienced the same process as me, the easy way with suboxone’s big help. That night I went over to his house and we sat on the couch and reminisced about the last year of our life, I s*** you not for the first time in a year I felt as if I had my bro back. I had my life back, and I was never going back to that lifestyle, no way in hell.
And that’s my story, the story about how I became addicted to heroin.
It has been about 6 months since I touched any dope, and it’s a good feeling. I let myself get so wrapped up in the need to get high and feel high to go do anything at all. It was terrible, and I REALLY, really, recommend anyone to just turn the other way, and forget the thought that you wanted to try it, because for me, it was’nt worth it. Living the life of a junkie isn’t worth shit. Just another addict, just another story, one hell of a memory, and I moved on…God Bless.
Addiction help- A final word from Dr. Jaffe
Bambi’s story of drug use escalation – from seemingly harmless prescription drug use to a full blown heroin addiction – is more common than many would like to think. If you need help finding treatment for your own, or a loved one’s addiction, make sure to give our Rehab-Finder a try: It’s the only evidence-based, scientifically created, tool for finding rehab anywhere in the United States!