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My Story:

A Patient’s Perspective

As is often the case for many addicts, I grew up in a troubled home
and have often used my parents as scapegoats for my failures in life.
My parents weren’t really all that bad, they just didn’t know how to
express love and that lack of affection seemed to impact me more than
it did my siblings. I was the youngest, living with an older brother and
sister. Later, I learned of another sister who had been given up for
adoption at birth.

My father was a sheriff whose job it was to investigate crime scenes,
including homicide. My mother stayed at home to raise the children.
However, she suffered from narcolepsy, a sleeping disease, which
made this very difficult. She would take amphetamines to stay awake
during the day and tranquilizers to sleep at night. I had been
introduced to pot by my older sister so my mother's drugs provided a
great opportunity for further experimentation. I was about twelve
when I first smoked pot and by then my older brother had also joined
law enforcement. The difficulty of hiding drugs in a home with two
cops must have had something to do with slowing my progress.