From the early days of my addictions people tried to help me. My mother sent me to a private school. I was always offered jobs and opportunities to improve. But, it never helped me to stop using or drinking. I was such an angry person at an early age that I'm sure it seemed like a waste of effort to try to help me change.
By the time I was 18 and had committed a serious crime like heroin possession, the legal system decided that the only cure for my problems was time in prison. And that's what they gave me. At that time - in the late 50's - the landscape wasn't dotted with treatment programs and detoxification centers. The establishment idea of treatment was to lock addicts up. And so I went away for a six month to ten year term in the California Department of Corrections.
I spent a little over four years that first term. Then I went back again for the same offense. I kept up this pattern of living for years. I finally accumulated around 16 years in various institutions, including one year in a state mental hospital where I lived with 300 other addicts. But none of this attention from the legal system helped much.
Because whenever I was released it wasn't long before I was back in the drug and crime world. And I would continue that way until I was over 50. So why did I change?
It really boiled down to one simple word: pain. With over half my life behind me I was tired of existing only to be drunk or shooting heroin. I got tired of being homeless. Of having to steal each day to obtain drugs and alcohol. Of not living up to my potential. Of just drifting and having no goals other than being out of my mind and drowning self-induced pain with whatever substances I could find.
I write this today for the parents, friends and others who have given up hope on the addicts in their lives. Have faith that there is hope. Accept that you have no power over them and hope they'll get tired of the pain and start seeking the help they need.
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