Only child. Adopted. Always was the one who liked the drugs, tho not alcohol til way later. Mostly weed and psychs and then came opiates and we all know the end to that story.
Adoptive parents: psychologically and physically abusive drunks. But the maintaining kind. Still at it at 78 years old. My dad had a few strokes a few years back so he drinks more to forget the fact that he's getting old. After doing my best for him, I have to respect that.
They're not really depressive types, they just had REALLY hard lives growing up: deaths of all parents, one by suicide, hung himself in the barn, my mom found him. She was 8. I forgive her everything she did in my childhood. My dad ended up with a really abusive-- sexually and physically and psychologically-- step-father until his mom died when he was 14.
Anyway, they're those people who eat the same exact food every day, do the same thing everyday, totally ok with that. They don't need anything else to feed their souls. Don't read books, don't like watching movies, just news and food network, lol. I'm an artist as well as a business person and they've resisted looking at my work forever. Not interested and perhaps a little intimidated maybe cuz it's not their thing. That's ok.
Then comes me. I was by far the most successful person in my family even when I was still in school. Won all kinds of awards, scholarships, etc. Parents weren't having it, wanted me to go to junior college near their home when I was being courted with scholarships by Yale. (My mother's the most insane control freak you've ever met and I was a loser chump for letting her manipulate me. Still am.) Brought home A's forever, never heard a word of acknowledgment. "Oh, ok." Found report card in trash next week. Whatever. Worked my way thru the university closest to my house.
Went on to be quite successful in life, especially compared to the rest of the extended family. I have started 4 companies in my life, 3 were successful. Ended up making what I thought was quite a bit of money (grew up barely lower middle-class, so my understanding of what a big amount of money was a little skewed. My dad still thinks it's highway robbery to pay more than $6 for a haircut.), had a nervous breakdown eventually. I had been a workaholic and I'm bi-polar and a slew of other psych diagnoses. I kept my demons in check with work. Used to work 90 hours a week. Would leave work and get back to it when I got home. Slept 4 hours a night without any drugs whatsoever. For a long time: 15-30 y.o.
Took time off because I was a wreck and I had money stashed up. Didn't work for a few years and shit went downhill from there. Locked up in my house, really fucking depressed. Seriously injured my back by running 6+ miles a day on a ruptured disc from an injury at my college job. (In my family, you don't whine about shit like pain.) Got scripted pills, already had an affinity for dope, which I fought.
I am so different from everyone in my extended family it's almost funny. I am totally creative and hyper-sensitive (bleh), and they're all hard-knock, no imagination farmer types. (Not dissing farmers, it's just that my family is just about nuts-and-bolts. None of their houses have books. I was actually punished for reading too much. Unbelievable I know, but true.)
Trying to get my shit together now. Bad bad place I'm in. But I'll make it out, albeit with shittons of debt and a strictly proscribed life.
If anyone else who tends towards depression finds themselves in a position where they don't have to go to a job or volunteer or whatever thing, do like Chef says in Apocalypse Now. He goes out looking for mangoes and runs in to a tiger. When he gets back to the boat, all he can say is, "Never Get Off the Boat. Never Get Off the Boat."
This fucking post turned into a pity-party bullshit piece of shit, but there's my answer. Yeah, I'm addicted currently, though tapering, and I've always been the one for drugs, psychedelic to narcotizing.