REAL STORIES

Age: 17
Gender: Male

The first time I tried meth was purely out of curiousity. Let's start at the beginning. My dad has a history of meth abuse. He's a construction worker and used it to help his productivity on the job. He would work hard all week and sleep all weekend. And he had no physical symptoms of a meth user. His face was clear, he was skinny and fit, and he was always the more generous parent, which made me really respect him.

My parents have had numerous fights over drugs and temporary break-ups. The longest lasted about 7 years. She had called the police for domestic violence and he ended up going to jail and getting a few meth charges on his record. With my dad out of my life, my mom would always preach to me about the dangers of meth. She told me stories about his use, and instead of helping me say "no", I believe she peaked my curiousity. I never intended to start using. My half-sister also became a meth user. She lost custodity of her 3-year old son to her ex-boyfriend and spent a lot of time in jail. She now is required to attend addiction classes multiple times a week, and she will continue to go for years to come.

In my late junior year of high school, with my dad still out of the picture, I began using marijuana. It was occasional at first, eventually turning into an everyday tradition. Then I began to smoke cigarettes. I was satisfied for a while, but during the summer I started to experiment more. I had tried oxycontin, xanax, and some hydrocodone. Then one day my drug dealer said she was selling some meth for a really good price. How could I say no? I had the money. I had always wondered how it made you felt. Why so many people close to me fell victim to it. I just wanted to TRY it, to experience the sensation and move on.

Well I did try it, and the girl I tried it with ended up getting caught and her parents started an investigation. My mom and I were called into the police station to talk to the detective. All charges were dismissed since I was sixteen at the time. The detective told me if this had happened two weeks later, after my seventeenth birthday, that I would have gone straight to jail. All charges were eventually dismissed. This was my warning. The time I should have stopped. Now my mom knew about what I had been doing and that's when I lost her trust.

After hearing about the situation, my dad, who had been living with his family in Missouri, decided it was time to come back and live with us again in August. Determined to reinvent the night I had tried it, I stole some meth I had found in his truck. I took it to school and snorted it in the bathroom. That day, I ended up doing great on my literature test, and I gave all the credit to the meth.

I ended up stealing some again later on during winter break, and had my first "run", doing it every few hours for about three days. My parents could tell I was using by my dilated pupils and my dad got mad at me for stealing from him. A week later I wanted more, and attempted to steal more. He caught me in the act and told me to my face if he ever caught me in his dope again he would "beat the shit out of me". I knew then that I couldn�t steal to support my habit.

A couple months later this guy I had met convinced me to try heroin. I liked it to a certain extent, but it didn't compare to meth. The next time he was taking me to get heroin, his friend mentioned something about selling meth. I had $50 extra dollars from working with my dad, so I asked to get some. When I got home, I didn�t even touch the heroin. I started using meth and went on another "run", this time for five days.

I had already been getting in trouble at school for alcohol and marijuana, and now someone told the administrators I had been using meth. They called me out one day and talked to me about it, but i denied everything. By the end of the week, my appearance was different than normal, and not in a good way. I had spots all over my face from popping pimples and forgetting to shower. I looked alot skinnier than usual because I hadn't eaten in nearly a week. The bags under my eyes were dark and evident. And my pupils stayed dilated. I was a mess.

That weekend, I got some sleep and was starting to improve. After eating again, I had a sharp pain in my stomach, but it wasn't from hunger. I did some research on ischemic bowel and learned that not eating for a week or longer can permanently damage your intestines. It can kill your intestines due to a lack of blood flow.

A week later I relapsed by dissolving what remains I had in my light-bulb pipe in water and shooting it up. I just can't do it anymore. I feels so good but I see what it can due to you in the long run. If I was offered meth today I'm not sure that I would refuse. But I'm trying to stay away from it.

It has a grasp on me now, and I can't stop thinking about the way it makes me feel. I've been in a lot of trouble since I've started using drugs and I can't live "under the radar" all the time, because it's just a matter of time before things get worse. I know it will get worse if I don't fight this addiction. I pray that after staying clean long enough I'll lose the desire to try it again. God, help me.

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