The Lost Drug War

You could call me a "late bloomer". Whereas my propensity for escapism surfaced when I learned to read at age 5 and discovered that I could escape the reality around me by living in the story at my fingertips, my drug abuse didn't start until I was age 28 and was going through a nasty divorce from my high-school sweetheart/father of my son. The emotional pain was debilitating. I recall waking every morning with one clear thought... "What do I need to do to be numb today?" (Say "hello" to cocaine.)

That's not to say I hadn't experimented occasionally. Pot was tried and enjoyed... but uncontrollable giggles weren't desirable in social situations. Acid (blotter) was tried. But the trips were only enjoyable 1/2 the time and recovery was always gritty/rough. I was told how I had smoked some hash at a party once, but I was too drunk to remember. (If any drug is a "gateway" drug, it would be alcohol. Later in life, many times I've instantly sobered up at the end of a bar night with a crack pipe in my mouth.)

My obsessive reading came to an end when I was 19 and realized that my husband and 2 year old son couldn't be put on hold for days as I read a book cover to cover.

... to be continued...