Drugs Destroy Lives

Do you know what it’s like to watch somebody so high that they can’t even open their eyes? Drugs have a weird way of destroying people’s lives and relationships. No matter how close you think you are to someone, drugs will always come first to the abuser. Growing up with an addict as a dad, seeing what he went through and how important drugs were to him, really made me who I am. I’m not able to trust easily, it’s hard for me to get close to anyone, and I forgive people way too easy. My dad never learned when enough was enough, and it never gets better. After he had to get a heart transplant, and going back to his life style that ruined his heart, ultimately ruining my Christmas, and then putting all he’s done down in writing for me to find and read, drugs not only destroyed his life, but also mine.

About two years ago, my dad was in ICU for 14 months, due to his heart problems that were caused by the drugs he’s done all his life. He was told the only way he could get out of the hospital and live a normal life again was to have a heart transplant. He had to wait 4 months for a heart to become available that he was able to use. Finally, a heart became available. After his heart transplant, the doctors specifically told him not to smoke, not to drink, and never to use any kind of drugs that he was not prescribed to. A few months after his transplant, he started smoking cigarettes again, and started to drink occasionally. My mother and him text from time to time, and she informed me that he started using cocaine again after the drinking got old to him. He needed to feel the high he used to feel, because after all, that is the only life he’s ever known. I believe he got a second chance to do right from God, and he still chose his old life. That is unforgiving for me. After I was informed of this, I stopped answering his phone calls, and his texts. Not just this, but series of events has made me not want to forgive him, but overall he is my father so I felt the need to. My sister and I have had to deal with a lot from him, even one of our Christmas’ being ruined from his habits.

On Christmas Eve, my sister and I were asleep, excited to wake up Christmas day to open all our presents. Lying in bed that night, I could hear my mother and father arguing and I over hear my mother telling him, “I hope you’re happy! You have ruined your kid’s Christmas”. Being only a child, I wasn’t exactly sure what she meant by that, all I know is my sister and I woke up that morning, running downstairs so excited to open up all our presents. When we got to the tree, we noticed that the gifts weren’t wrapped; there wasn’t a big bow or anything exciting but little toys. I was confused and almost hurt, hearing what my mother said to him the night before made me feel like my father had something to do with this. My mother wouldn’t tell me anything, she knew I wouldn’t understand that my father was an addict; he didn’t care if my Christmas was ruined or not, he only cared about one thing.

When I was around 13 years old, I would spend my summers with him and my grandma. My grandma was very sick and had to stay in bed 24/7, so my dad lived with her to take care of her. I was cleaning his room one day, and I started finding things I had no idea about. I found his needles and his rubber bands. Being at the age I was, I wasn’t exactly sure what those were for, or how they were used, so I put them back where I found them. I kept cleaning, then suddenly I seen this notebook that said “private”. Yes, maybe I shouldn’t have read it and I don’t remember much that it said except this one thing that I will never forget. He started talking about how he can’t function when he’s not high, and he wrote, “I can’t even enjoy spending time with my kids because all I wanna do is get stoned.” After reading that, I lost all respect for him. At age 13, I knew what he was talking about but I couldn’t understand his words. I asked my mom about it, at first she didn’t want to tell me, but she seen the hurt in my eyes and she had to let me know.

The hardest part for me as a child was never knowing if his high was the real him or not. As long as I can remember I’ve seen his droopy red eyes, rolling in the back of his head every time he tried to speak. I never knew my dad when he was sober, now that I’m older I can only think of a few times that I’ve been around when he wasn’t high. My dad is still alive now and we do not speak often. When he calls, all the memories of talking to him and listening to him slur come back to my mind. He questions me about why I never want to talk to him or see him, and I’m not sure how to answer him, I don’t want him to think I hate him over his disease. So I try not to, I try to understand that he didn’t choose to be an addict, the drugs chose him. Whether you’ve experience it personally, or watching a loved one struggle with addiction, either way drugs completely destroy lives. No matter If you’re the abuser or not.