Life on the other side

Vernon, New Jersey, my nearly abandoned upbringing and distant home.

It is a place of indescribable natural beauty and hidden treasures. My mom moved there to raise her kids in a nice suburban area with decent education and fun activities, like many parents did. Yet, somewhere along the way it has become a hell on Earth for many families. Vernon has become plagued by a chemical that consumes every bit of life, and every bit of passion, out of anyone willing to give it “just one try”. Addiction has seeped into the livelihood of almost everyone I grew up with there, and the insidious affliction is just as prevalent now (if not more so) than it was when I left four years ago. I am still awakened by phone calls of scared parents or withdrawing old friends asking how I managed to get out of it. I often forget that people are still going through this; people I know, grew up with, and love. We have all fallen victim to this powerful narcotic. Whether we are the ones using or the ones witnessing our family or friends deteriorate, heroin has too much control over our well-being. Somewhere, it needs to end, but for those still suffering, somewhere often seems impossible.

I remember that feeling like it was yesterday: cold sweats, nightmares, hallucinations, and hundreds of needles stabbing me all over my body. That was a common occurrence in my life. If I was ever without my notorious “friend”, I felt it in every bone and organ in my body. It didn’t let me forget, or sleep, or function like a normal human being. My quality of life was a one-track mission — to get high by any means necessary. As a young woman, those means often took me to a dark place where no one should ever have to wander. I was at the disposal of everyone but myself. Life had no meaning, no grand purpose; I was a heroin addict that thrived on that identity. I hated everything about myself, so I made myself a cozy, sleepy little nook where I never had to feel anything. I never had to deal with pain, or self-realization, or guilt. I became merely a ghost of myself. Wake up, get high, sleep, get high, maybe eat a cracker, get high, make a drug run, get high, sleep. I was in a vicious cycle and it wasn’t long before I dropped out of school and lost sight of any goals I had. I lied to everyone, including myself. I had no desire to get better, but yet I was utterly defeated. I spent almost two years in this fabled existence.

After losing about 35 pounds and making frequent visits to every rehab in the tri-state area, I was finally picked up by the Vernon PD. This run-in ultimately saved my life as it landed me in a long-term inpatient program in Mendham. The program was supposed to be 6-9 months long. I was there for 18 months. I rediscovered, or possibly newly discovered, who I was and what I wanted to accomplish. Every day, heroin controlled less and less of my thoughts and before I knew it, my time was spent building my future. For as long as I could remember, my dream was to go to The University of Oklahoma, so the day after I graduated rehab, I packed up my car, got a puppy, and set off for Oklahoma. Getting out of Vernon was the best decision I ever made. I’ve been clean for almost 5 years, I am one semester away from receiving my bachelor’s degree at OU, and I am currently applying to grad school.

The point is that it is possible to get clean. Is it easy? Hell no. However, I had no idea what I was missing out on when I was using. There’s a whole world out here. There are people to meet, countries to see, and friends to make. There’s a quality of life you completely overlook when you’re using. True freedom only comes when you can come and go as you please without anything holding you back, and heroin is the heaviest anchor I know of.

Parents, the best advice I can give is to send your child to a long-term inpatient program. Thirty-day programs, outpatient, and detox do not work. If your child tells you that a30-day program is sufficient, it is not. Thirty days is merely enough to fully detox, then comes the hard stuff; the digging deep, coping, and re-learning of everything. Yes, it’s scary. Yes, they may resent you momentarily, but the decision to send them away will potentially save their lives. Besides, you will sleep sounder knowing they are safe somewhere with constant supervision and no access to drugs.

For those still suffering, just remember that all hope is not lost. There is a grander purpose and a future for you outside of the addiction. I remember sitting in rehab and rolling my eyes to these empty promises, but I wasn’t willing to work for it yet. I’m not “unique” and I’m definitely not a special case, I just got sick of living for a chemical that was constantly trying to kill me. I wasn’t born to die by the hand of heroin, and neither are you. We’re not here to exist, we are here to live – by any means necessary.