You never know who's going to sit next to you on a bus to New York City. Maybe someone who's smart who makes you look at life in a different way, or maybe a disheveled-looking drug addict with greasy tangled hair and rotten teeth.
Her name was Lucky, and she was both.
She was on her way to rehab
for heroin addiction. For the fourth time. She hadn't had a job in eleven years.
She would sell herself to fund her addiction.
"You could probably
guess Lucky isn't my real name. It's Rebecca. I got the nickname Lucky because
I've overdosed three times. Yet, somehow I'm still here."
We sat in silence for a few minutes.
"I wasn't always like
this," she told me.
"I used to be a pretty little thing like you. I was a
cheerleader in college before I had to drop out to go to rehab. I lost everything."
She asked me how old I thought she was.
Umm.
Well you look about 65,
but I'm going to assume the drugs are a factor.
"Forty-two?" I
asked hesitantly.
"I'm 33. "
She was going to school for nursing when the drugs took control of her life. She started taking
Oxycontin, and before she knew it she was shooting heroin in her dorm room. She told me how her
boyfriend at the time found her after her first overdose. He supported her
through rehab, as did her family. He was her high school sweetheart, but he
left her after she relapsed. Her family disowned her,
calling her an embarrassment and a disappointment. She told me her father is a
lawyer. He thinks she belongs in prison. Her mother is a nurse who says she's
better off dead.
"If you told me ten
years ago I would be sitting on a bus to New York to go to rehab for the fourth
time for heroin addiction, I would say there's no chance in hell. I was on the
right track. I had goals. I was going to make something of myself."
We talked about everything just like we were old friends.
She was shrewd. She was charming.
She was a heroin addict.
As the bus came to a final stop she asked me to make her a
promise.
“Promise me you’ll never end up like me. Don’t do drugs, stay in
school.” We both couldn't help but laugh at how cliché that sounded. I wished
her the best of luck and we went our separate ways.
Sometimes I wonder how she’s doing. Sometimes I wonder if she’s
even still alive. Meeting Rebecca gave me a new perspective on the power of addiction.
Even people with all the potential in the world are powerless once a drug takes
control. I know a lot of people who like to experiment in college with different
drugs claiming “they just want to try it once.” But don’t underestimate the power of addiction.
I absolutely love how this blog post starts off as a story because sometimes, that's all it takes to make you not want to do something.I met someone addicted to drugs once and instantly knew it'd be something I'd never even dare dip my feet into. Even the after thoughts of wondering how they're doing and where they are are enough to make you not want to end up on that road.
ReplyDeleteMeeting people and hearing their stories are more powerful than some people think and I think your story here was very well written!
This is my favorite post on this blog so far. The way you personified a drug addict through a story, yet still hit on some very important addiction issues made this a great read. You never know someone's story, and this illustrates just how detrimental drugs can be to someone's life.
ReplyDeleteThis blog post is so important! It shows that drug users are normal people facing a difficult challenge. It is so important to never dehumanize someone with a drug addiction. This was beautifully written and really showed a different side of users that we don't typically see.
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