My heroin habit got so bad that I spent my student loan money on the shit--then I spent most of my regular income on it. When that failed, I had to resort to burglary, something I would NEVER do. But it was a desperate act by a desperate junkie.
Fast forwarding to later that night, I was brought in for questioning on account of eyewitness reports. I was nodding and leaning throughout the whole interrogation--that really pissed them off. But I must've told them what they wanted to hear--I was promptly jailed.
Detoxing in jail was an absolutely horrific experience. Let's just say I spent about a week curled up in the fetal position in my bunk. I need not describe the symptoms, most of you already know what they are like.
I was released on a signature bond two weeks later. FREEDOM!
When the cops came a-knockin at my door the night I was arrested, I had stashed $200 worth of heroin into the bathroom exhaust fan. It was still there when I got back. My veins were yearning for it.
But...
I called my mom into the bathroom, showed her the baggies and explained to her that it was a good quantity of heroin. She said okay, what are you saying? Then I threw the baggies into the toilet and flushed it, making sure she was watching. I handed over my package of 1cc insulin spikes.
"Mom," said I, "I need you and my wife (seperated, hence me living with mom for the time being) to commit me to substance abuse treatment. I have a serious problem that I cannot resolve on my own."
She was so happy there were tears in her eyes.
I spent four days in the hospital while they did urine and blood tests, checking for hep, HIV, all that good shit since I was an IV user. They nursed me back to health with nourishing meals and lots of vitamins.
On the fourth day, they held an impromptu "court" in a conference room--myself, two lawyers, my psychiatrist, my mother and a sherriff. My psychiatrist told them I was suffering from severe opioid dependency and it was in my best interest to be referred to a residential facility.
I rode in the sherriff's car for an hour and a half to get to rehab.
Long story short, half the shit they preached in there I already knew--either through school or "first hand" knowledge, but the important thing is I learned a great deal about myself.
28 days later, I'm back home. Been home for two weeks. 45 days clean and sober. Off the gear, finally. Now I need to keep it that way, or the consequences will be disastrous.
If a heroin user is reading this who wants to stop, you can do it. If I can fucking do it, you can too.
Fast forwarding to later that night, I was brought in for questioning on account of eyewitness reports. I was nodding and leaning throughout the whole interrogation--that really pissed them off. But I must've told them what they wanted to hear--I was promptly jailed.
Detoxing in jail was an absolutely horrific experience. Let's just say I spent about a week curled up in the fetal position in my bunk. I need not describe the symptoms, most of you already know what they are like.
I was released on a signature bond two weeks later. FREEDOM!
When the cops came a-knockin at my door the night I was arrested, I had stashed $200 worth of heroin into the bathroom exhaust fan. It was still there when I got back. My veins were yearning for it.
But...
I called my mom into the bathroom, showed her the baggies and explained to her that it was a good quantity of heroin. She said okay, what are you saying? Then I threw the baggies into the toilet and flushed it, making sure she was watching. I handed over my package of 1cc insulin spikes.
"Mom," said I, "I need you and my wife (seperated, hence me living with mom for the time being) to commit me to substance abuse treatment. I have a serious problem that I cannot resolve on my own."
She was so happy there were tears in her eyes.
I spent four days in the hospital while they did urine and blood tests, checking for hep, HIV, all that good shit since I was an IV user. They nursed me back to health with nourishing meals and lots of vitamins.
On the fourth day, they held an impromptu "court" in a conference room--myself, two lawyers, my psychiatrist, my mother and a sherriff. My psychiatrist told them I was suffering from severe opioid dependency and it was in my best interest to be referred to a residential facility.
I rode in the sherriff's car for an hour and a half to get to rehab.
Long story short, half the shit they preached in there I already knew--either through school or "first hand" knowledge, but the important thing is I learned a great deal about myself.
28 days later, I'm back home. Been home for two weeks. 45 days clean and sober. Off the gear, finally. Now I need to keep it that way, or the consequences will be disastrous.
If a heroin user is reading this who wants to stop, you can do it. If I can fucking do it, you can too.
