Why I am Here

Welcome to my blog. Fortheloveofajunkie will be a raw, personal look at what it is like to love a person in the throws of heroin addiction. It’s a dark, confusing, heartbreaking, frustrating, desperate world. It’s a world full of secrets and lies. Sadly, it’s a world many are attempting to navigate everyday. Ten years of my life were almost exclusively dedicated to combatting the consequences of drug abuse. Most of my energy was geared toward successfully hiding my reality. Conducting myself with a “business as usual” attitude while my personal life fell apart at the seams. Thousands of dollars, too many “shut off” notices on the door, three lost jobs, countless missed friend and family events later, I felt I had nothing else to lose and decided to come out in the open with my truth. Maybe not publically, but I started to open up to my friends and family about a year ago. This did not solve the problem, but it gave me invaluable support throughout the next 8 months of mayhem. Now, with all the chaos at a lull, I feel stable enough to put my experience into written words. To share, now publically, with people that may be going through a similar HELL. With people that know someone living through it. And, perhaps most importantly, for people still not fully ware of this epidemic and how it invades homes across the nation. I will write the blog anonymously. Not because I am ashamed, but because there are people involved in this story that are still not ready to be honest with themselves about what has transpired.

My only hope is that this blog bring solidarity to a group of humans out there not knowing what to do next and feeling alone in the struggle. You are not alone. My heart is with you. I have walked that dark path toward the rabbit hole. I fought tooth and nail. I screamed into the darkness “YOU CAN NOT HAVE HIM!!”. I did more than I knew I was capable of. I did it all fortheloveofajunkie.

 

Day Of Discovery

Of course I had seen all these items separately in my life.But, there they were, all together. “As Seen On TV”, in my hand, was a spoon, two needles, a plastic bottle cap and a cotton swab. In my quivering hand I held what a junkie calls”works”.I’ve seen it on tv.I hardly knew how they are used, but I sure knew where they came from. A spoon from the flat ware set my sister gave me on my wedding day. A bottle cap from the water I bought earlier and then could not find the lid.A cotton swab from my medicine chest.And a diabetic syringe from…. where the hell do you get a syringe?

“What the FUCK?!” I said out loud to no one.

I was alone. in my laundry room. Washing my families garments like a good wife and mommy.Taking great care to empty the pockets. I stood listening to the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. Was I breathing? I felt dizzy. I stared at the items in my hand while my mind struggled to wrap itself around the turn my life had suddenly taken in that moment. In my other hand was a pair of my husbands work pants. Pants I had found moments before, when everything was normal.I found them rolled in a ball tucked under the bed where he lay sleeping peacefully. I’d scooped them up, thinking “tisk, tisk, please put your dirty clothes in the hamper, silly man.” I’d thought this lovingly of my hard-working husband. As I felt something oddly shaped in the pocket I thought “Oh, tisk tisk you left your glasses in your pocket. Those things aren’t cheap buddy.” I’d thought this lovingly but somewhat annoyed. As i headed down to the laundry room, my hand touched the spoon first. I couldn’t come up with a sound reason THAT would be there until the full truth was staring me in the face.My husband was shooting heroin.MY husband, a blue-collar working man, was medically injecting street narcotics into his vein. This was not tv. This was not an episode of “Intervention”. This was my actual life. The “never” I’d heard my husband so emphatically declare… that never was now.

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