I abused drugs for about seven months, ... It started in the summer of 1987 when I was nineteen years old. I was out of school, running around with the wrong crowd. I was doing lace [a mixture of crack and marijuana]. And what happened was, in my mind, the drug became the only value that mattered. I was involved in something that I'd lost control over. My responsibilities become secondary to the drug. I began to change as a person. I was acting crazy. Finally, one night, I went into my mother's room when she was sleeping, woke her up, and told her, 'Mom; I'm in trouble. I have a problem.' She was like, 'What are you talking about?' And I said, 'Mom; I'm messed up. I'm using drugs.' We cried all night. She was very hurt, and I felt horrible because of the shame and hurt I was bringing her. Neither of us was educated on the matter, but we found out where I could go to get help. I went into a residential rehab program for six months. I had to do some rebuilding. They educated me about my problems and my purpose in life, and I'm a better person now because of the experience. I learned from my mistake and put it behind me. I could have given up on myself. I know people who have battled drugs for years and never kicked the habit. But I beat it. It never resurfaced, and I'm very proud of that.
|