IS DRUG ADDICTION A DISEASE?

When I first learned that my daughter, Jennifer, was using heroin, I truly believed it was something she could beat. After all, she had withdrawn. Didn't withdrawal mean it is no longer in your system? I realized how hard it was to go cold turkey when she told me about her body caving in during the withdrawal week. That's why I was so sure we could move ahead. Boy, was I naive. 

"Addiction" doesn't go away just because someone withdraws. When I began my "Recovery Journey" with Jennifer, I went to numerous meetings. Some of the facilities she stayed at required you, the family member, to participate in order to see your family member. I wanted to seem totally supportive, so I went.

When I attended these meetings, the leaders and the participants would talk about drug addiction as a "disease." Disease? No--not in my mind. "Choice" was more like it. I believed addicts had a choice whether or not they wanted to pic up that needle and insert it into their body. And I stuck with that thought for many years.

The way I made peace with Jennifer's death is by changing my stand. I do believe that addiction is a disease. I also believe that the only time the addict has a choice is before the first needle of heroin enters the body. It is like injecting "cancer cells" in the body that overtakes it. When someone with an addiction has a clean period, they are in drug "remission." When they are using, it's as if the cancer has raised its ugly head. 

This is how I view addiction. How do you feel? I'd love to hear your thoughts.

GRATTITUDE FOR THE ATTITUDES!

I have been receiving so many heart warming letters and phone calls from people who have read my book Jennifer Needle in My Arm. It's amazing how many people have had their families destroyed by drugs through a family member who was unable to fight the addiction with any success.

I've learned through the road of disaster that there comes a time when you have to say to yourself, "My child is not here. That's a demon that has taken over her body and soul." That is the only way I could describe it.

I remember Jennifer being so proud when she brough home her DARE certificate when she was ten years old. She knew how my brother's death from drugs had impacted all of our family--especially her grandmother. She used to tell me, "Mommy, why is Uncle Lance making grandma so sad all of the time?" It was hard to explain this away to my little daughter who was only seven at the time. Eventually I told her that her uncle had an illness called drug addiction. She told me, "Ma, you know you never have to worry that will happen to me."

She was ten years old. Who could predict that within 10 years, she would be traveling the same road as her uncle.

I still have that certificate from DARE. Just don't have my daughter.
xoxBonnie