I don't anymore (I have been sober for over two years) but I definitely hid my problem--or tried to hide it--from my partner, family, and friends. The guy I was with for two years was no stranger to opiates but I hid the fact that I was using needles from him until he found some in my car (another person I was with left them in a cup like a g.d. idiot), and of course I hid this from my family. In fact, they had sent me to a rehab/reform school in Vermont for eleven months where I had to repeat my junior year after getting expelled from the school I went to in my home town, and obviously I didn't use anything during that time period. Instead of moving home, I moved to South Carolina where I did my senior year of high school and I did a good job of avoiding drugs most of that time. I went to The University of Mississippi but I was only there for one year because I left to return to my home town where my then boyfriend was as he was jealous, we argued a lot, the distance caused stress, etc. When I got back to my home town, I started seeing all the old people I used to do drugs with an naturally I just picked them up again out of frustration and boredom. I was fighting with my family and they had cut me off after I left school, I was working a shitty job and living paycheck to paycheck, and I didn't see any way out of my situation at that point so yeah, I started doing drugs again but that time around I learned how to shoot up and I was done for.
Thankfully said boyfriend and I moved to another state to get out of that town and away from all the bad influences, and it was the best decision I ever made. I have made it a point to avoid befriending anyone who uses drugs and I have since broken up with that guy who was definitely bi-polar, an alcoholic (which exasperated his symptoms even more), still wanted to use drugs occasionally, the list goes on... We obviously couldn't remain together if I wanted to stay sober. Shortly after we broke up, he knocked up my best friend. They didn't last but a few weeks but they got back together when she found out she was pregnant. I almost relapsed because of the depression and shame that resulted--I came "this close"--but thanks to friends and family I was able to stay away from drugs and that horrible little town in Georgia.
Speaking of, my home town definitely has a lot to do with what happened. The people who are still there (probably 90% of them didn't make it out of that town) are still using drugs and some are so bad that they're doing things like stealing and selling guns, beating people up, stealing from family and friends, etc. so it's needless to say that I got out just in time. I have been 100% open and honest with my parents since I moved to SC and because I'm close to my mom for once, I visit her almost every day while I can as I'm moving to D.C. in under a year. Our relationship was so fucked up from all the lies among lots of other things but we've somehow managed to repair it and even make it better than it ever was. We are truly best friends at this point. I visit my dad who still lives in my home town, but I usually visit him at another house in Alabama so I don't have to go back to that town and be around those people (which I consider a huge trigger). I go back to that place about twice a year at this point and when I do, I pretty much stay with my family the entire time and make it a point to not hang out with anyone--even people who don't use drugs that often--because I don't trust myself to be around drugs and not slip up as I am an addict.
Wow, that got way longer than it needed to be. My bad.