The '80s drug scourge that never went away
Jan 09/2005
By Aman Batheja
Star-Telegram Staff Writer
FORT WORTH - The 10-year-old girl had something special for show and tell.
She walked up to her teacher at the east Fort Worth elementary school and handed her a piece of aluminum foil.
Inside was an off-white rocklike substance -- crack cocaine.
"I told you. I told you," the girl said, according to a police report. "I want my mother thrown in jail."
School administrators called police.
The girl told an officer in detail what it was like having a mother who smokes crack cocaine. The unmistakable smell and the way her mother's eyes would become "very, very wide." At times, the girl said, her mother would disappear for two or three days.
Child Protective Services had been involved, according to the report. But for the girl, nothing seemed to be happening, so she took the kind of proof no one could refute.
"Certainly this is very different than most situations where we have a student having drugs on campus," said Cecelia Speer, assistant superintendent for student affairs for the Fort Worth school district. "I would say this is more of an outcry."
Although crack cocaine is often thought of as an epidemic of the 1980s, it continues to trap users. In Dallas-Fort Worth, it remains one of the most abused substances, along with methamphetamine -- with addiction fueling crimes and the spread of sexually transmitted diseases.
And while its stranglehold on addicts is well-documented, this little girl and countless other children, parents, lovers and siblings become victims as well -- of theft, abuse, infections and broken promises.
Often, they refuse to let another's addiction become their own undoing. More than the government, the police or all the anti-drug ads in the world, these people who speak up, take action and demand that their loved ones turn their lives around are sometimes the only ones who can get them to do it.
A persistent menace
In the mid-1980s, crack moved to the front pages of newspapers across the nation. Newsweek magazine said its effects on communities were as newsworthy as "the struggle for civil rights, the war in Vietnam and the fall of the Nixon presidency."
But as other drugs like heroin and Ecstasy became more trendy in the 1990s, "the crack epidemic" began being referred to in the past tense.
"Everybody was worried about it 10 years ago, but now it's fallen off the radar," said Jane Maxwell, a research professor at the University of Texas at Austin who studies drug trends in the state.
Crack remains heavily abused in Texas.
It was the primary illicit drug abused by people admitted to the state's publicly funded treatment programs in 2003, with 19 percent of all admissions.
In Tarrant County, crack cocaine users accounted for 24 percent of admissions to the county's treatment programs in 2002, the most recent year for which numbers are available. That's fewer people than were admitted for alcohol addiction but more than were admitted for marijuana and amphetamines, according to the Tarrant County Drug Impact Index.
Floyd Neeson, executive director of Cenikor, a long-term substance abuse facility in Fort Worth, said crack has been the most abused illegal substance by his clients for years, but about two years ago, he noticed a change.
"Where we're getting a lot of our calls is from the suburbs," Neeson said. "It's surprising because it used to be more downtown, east side, Stop Six."
Neeson's observations reflect a statewide trend.
Ten years ago, the vast majority of crack addicts admitted to state-funded treatment programs in Texas were black. In 2003, their numbers fell to about half. Admissions of Anglos have increased from 20 percent to 34 percent, and Hispanics have gone from 5 percent to 15 percent.
Part of the reason for the shift, Maxwell said, is that many in the black community have learned a hard lesson.
"A lot of African-American kids saw what crack did to their community so they won't touch it," Maxwell said. "You've got [Hispanic and Anglo] communities ... that don't really understand how debilitating crack can be."
Enabling addiction
For Gayla Green, the unconditional love and support of her mother made staying addicted to crack easier than getting clean.
In 1983, Green, a prostitute and occasional thief, first tried crack cocaine. Suddenly nothing else mattered.
For the next decade, Green lived hard, doing anything for crack and always knowing that her mother would be there to look after her.
She gave birth to two daughters, in 1994 and 1996, and each had cocaine in her system. Green's mother took care of the children.
In 1999, Green had a third child on the way. This time, she was scared that if she gave birth to another baby with cocaine in its system, she might go to jail.
Already into her third trimester, Green decided to get herself into treatment.
"It wasn't about the baby ... that could come out addicted with two fingers and three toes," she said. "It was about keeping me out of jail."
She was admitted into First Choice, a long-term residential treatment program for chemically dependent women and their children. She was prepared to stay clean until the baby was a few months old. Then she would hand the newborn over to her mother and go back to crack.
But just after Shelby was born, Green's plan hit a snag. Her mother -- and her children -- pushed her to turn her life around. On Oct. 29, 1999, Green got the news that her mother had died of bone marrow cancer.
"That's when my world really crumbled," she said.
Families matter
Families can have an enormous impact on whether substance abusers get clean, research shows, but not always in the way people might expect.
Robert Meyers, an associate professor at the University of New Mexico, has studied the impact of family interaction on substance abusers.
In the late 1990s, Meyers developed Community Reinforcement and Family Training, a family intervention approach aimed at getting unmotivated substance abusers into treatment.
One such method is to avoid enabling addicts, to let "people suffer natural consequences for their own behavior," Meyers said.
Green's situation, in which a mother enabled a child's addiction, happens all too often, he said.
Upon hearing about her mother's death, Green's responsibilities multiplied in an instant -- from supporting her crack habit and avoiding jail to the health and well-being of three kids.
Helping her children in need quickly provided a bigger reward than getting high, she said.
She enrolled in a drug treatment facility and then turned to God for guidance. Soon, it all made sense. Things had turned out this way for a reason.
"It's easy to get high, but it's hard as hell to stay clean," Green told a group of about 20 people. "Don't think we can't do this without one another."
Green, 38, has been leading a weekly support group for drug users meeting at the Presbyterian Night Shelter in east Fort Worth for more than two years.
For Green, it seems like everything has changed since her mother died. She completed the program at First Choice and has been clean for five years.
Along with taking care of her three kids, she spends much of her time helping others struggling with addictions. She regularly counsels people on how to get and stay clean. Crack is the drug that comes up most, she said.
Green looks back and knows that relying so completely on her mother was as much a part of her addiction as crack was.
"She more or less handicapped me," she said. "I didn't have to do anything. I was like a kid in a field with nothing but candy."
At the same time, Green says she owes her mother everything. If it weren't for her mom, who knows what would have happened to her and her kids?
"I feel today what helps me to stay clean is that little lady."
Link
Jan 09/2005
By Aman Batheja
Star-Telegram Staff Writer
FORT WORTH - The 10-year-old girl had something special for show and tell.
She walked up to her teacher at the east Fort Worth elementary school and handed her a piece of aluminum foil.
Inside was an off-white rocklike substance -- crack cocaine.
"I told you. I told you," the girl said, according to a police report. "I want my mother thrown in jail."
School administrators called police.
The girl told an officer in detail what it was like having a mother who smokes crack cocaine. The unmistakable smell and the way her mother's eyes would become "very, very wide." At times, the girl said, her mother would disappear for two or three days.
Child Protective Services had been involved, according to the report. But for the girl, nothing seemed to be happening, so she took the kind of proof no one could refute.
"Certainly this is very different than most situations where we have a student having drugs on campus," said Cecelia Speer, assistant superintendent for student affairs for the Fort Worth school district. "I would say this is more of an outcry."
Although crack cocaine is often thought of as an epidemic of the 1980s, it continues to trap users. In Dallas-Fort Worth, it remains one of the most abused substances, along with methamphetamine -- with addiction fueling crimes and the spread of sexually transmitted diseases.
And while its stranglehold on addicts is well-documented, this little girl and countless other children, parents, lovers and siblings become victims as well -- of theft, abuse, infections and broken promises.
Often, they refuse to let another's addiction become their own undoing. More than the government, the police or all the anti-drug ads in the world, these people who speak up, take action and demand that their loved ones turn their lives around are sometimes the only ones who can get them to do it.
A persistent menace
In the mid-1980s, crack moved to the front pages of newspapers across the nation. Newsweek magazine said its effects on communities were as newsworthy as "the struggle for civil rights, the war in Vietnam and the fall of the Nixon presidency."
But as other drugs like heroin and Ecstasy became more trendy in the 1990s, "the crack epidemic" began being referred to in the past tense.
"Everybody was worried about it 10 years ago, but now it's fallen off the radar," said Jane Maxwell, a research professor at the University of Texas at Austin who studies drug trends in the state.
Crack remains heavily abused in Texas.
It was the primary illicit drug abused by people admitted to the state's publicly funded treatment programs in 2003, with 19 percent of all admissions.
In Tarrant County, crack cocaine users accounted for 24 percent of admissions to the county's treatment programs in 2002, the most recent year for which numbers are available. That's fewer people than were admitted for alcohol addiction but more than were admitted for marijuana and amphetamines, according to the Tarrant County Drug Impact Index.
Floyd Neeson, executive director of Cenikor, a long-term substance abuse facility in Fort Worth, said crack has been the most abused illegal substance by his clients for years, but about two years ago, he noticed a change.
"Where we're getting a lot of our calls is from the suburbs," Neeson said. "It's surprising because it used to be more downtown, east side, Stop Six."
Neeson's observations reflect a statewide trend.
Ten years ago, the vast majority of crack addicts admitted to state-funded treatment programs in Texas were black. In 2003, their numbers fell to about half. Admissions of Anglos have increased from 20 percent to 34 percent, and Hispanics have gone from 5 percent to 15 percent.
Part of the reason for the shift, Maxwell said, is that many in the black community have learned a hard lesson.
"A lot of African-American kids saw what crack did to their community so they won't touch it," Maxwell said. "You've got [Hispanic and Anglo] communities ... that don't really understand how debilitating crack can be."
Enabling addiction
For Gayla Green, the unconditional love and support of her mother made staying addicted to crack easier than getting clean.
In 1983, Green, a prostitute and occasional thief, first tried crack cocaine. Suddenly nothing else mattered.
For the next decade, Green lived hard, doing anything for crack and always knowing that her mother would be there to look after her.
She gave birth to two daughters, in 1994 and 1996, and each had cocaine in her system. Green's mother took care of the children.
In 1999, Green had a third child on the way. This time, she was scared that if she gave birth to another baby with cocaine in its system, she might go to jail.
Already into her third trimester, Green decided to get herself into treatment.
"It wasn't about the baby ... that could come out addicted with two fingers and three toes," she said. "It was about keeping me out of jail."
She was admitted into First Choice, a long-term residential treatment program for chemically dependent women and their children. She was prepared to stay clean until the baby was a few months old. Then she would hand the newborn over to her mother and go back to crack.
But just after Shelby was born, Green's plan hit a snag. Her mother -- and her children -- pushed her to turn her life around. On Oct. 29, 1999, Green got the news that her mother had died of bone marrow cancer.
"That's when my world really crumbled," she said.
Families matter
Families can have an enormous impact on whether substance abusers get clean, research shows, but not always in the way people might expect.
Robert Meyers, an associate professor at the University of New Mexico, has studied the impact of family interaction on substance abusers.
In the late 1990s, Meyers developed Community Reinforcement and Family Training, a family intervention approach aimed at getting unmotivated substance abusers into treatment.
One such method is to avoid enabling addicts, to let "people suffer natural consequences for their own behavior," Meyers said.
Green's situation, in which a mother enabled a child's addiction, happens all too often, he said.
Upon hearing about her mother's death, Green's responsibilities multiplied in an instant -- from supporting her crack habit and avoiding jail to the health and well-being of three kids.
Helping her children in need quickly provided a bigger reward than getting high, she said.
She enrolled in a drug treatment facility and then turned to God for guidance. Soon, it all made sense. Things had turned out this way for a reason.
"It's easy to get high, but it's hard as hell to stay clean," Green told a group of about 20 people. "Don't think we can't do this without one another."
Green, 38, has been leading a weekly support group for drug users meeting at the Presbyterian Night Shelter in east Fort Worth for more than two years.
For Green, it seems like everything has changed since her mother died. She completed the program at First Choice and has been clean for five years.
Along with taking care of her three kids, she spends much of her time helping others struggling with addictions. She regularly counsels people on how to get and stay clean. Crack is the drug that comes up most, she said.
Green looks back and knows that relying so completely on her mother was as much a part of her addiction as crack was.
"She more or less handicapped me," she said. "I didn't have to do anything. I was like a kid in a field with nothing but candy."
At the same time, Green says she owes her mother everything. If it weren't for her mom, who knows what would have happened to her and her kids?
"I feel today what helps me to stay clean is that little lady."
Link
foster care is not always great, often times it isn't, but often times it IS too. Some of these people really care about the children and really want to help. Compared to a mother away smoking rocks for 2-3 days at a time, I bet she is doing well. At least she has supervision and food. Not to mention all the big brother/big sister programs that accompany foster care, those are truly amazing.
.
![:\](https://bluelight.org/xf/BL_Images/Orig_Emoji/wrygrin.gif "wry grin :\")