I can’t name one specific drug treatment program that is better than another. I can’t quote statistics, research, or any other scientific “break through” that will help the tourtured soul of a drug addict find the peace that he or she is desperately seeking. What I can give, to those of you who are out there searching for help for yourself, help for a loved one, or just searching for answers to shed a little light on certain questions that non-addicts always ask, is my experience with addiction.

My father struggled with addiction way before I was even a blip on the radar. I was fortunate enough to have a bond with my father that was literally, soul mate quality. He shared his story with me, and as I grew up, not only did I hear his stories and personal accounts, I had to bear witness to the ugliness of addiction face to face. The effects of my father’s addiction didn’t ever stop short after ravaging my dad’s life, it always made sure my mother, sisters, and myself felt his anguish just thoroughly.

My dad started out with pot, beer, cigs, just like everyone else. The unfair thing about addiction is that no matter how rampant the addictive nature runs through your family tree, it has the consistence of a game of Russian roulette when it comes down to deciding who will experiment and walk away unharmed, and who will experiment and never be the same again. Fate chose to spare my aunt, (dads’ sister) and take my dad instead. That’s the conclusion I have come up with, at least.

Heroin was my dad’s poison. He was in and out of prisons and half-way houses for the better part of my youth. Visiting days were always a treat. Dad would get out and do fine for a little bit, then I would wake up one morning, and he would be gone. The explanation I alway received for my fathers’ disappearing acts was, ” Well honey, your father is sick again”. As I got older, and capable of hearing portions of truth, I heard this one, ” Well sweetie, your father messed up again”.

He stole from my grandparents, his parents, and from us, his own wife and kids. The only thing we ever did was try to help him, we just wanted him to be fixed. Eventually I was the only one in the family that was able to understand the mind set of an addict, without actually being addicted to anything. My family didn’t understand why he kept putting himself and his kids through such a terrible nightmare. They finally gave up, and moved out without dad while he was sitting in jail, for what

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