What Doesn’t Kill You makes You Stronger: My Encounter with Drug Addiction
Life has surprised us in one way or another. I was caught off-guard by my sister’s drug addiction. I thought I knew her so well. “We always hang out together, how could I have missed this?” I asked myself. Joan was cheerful, bubbly, and full of life. She was the ideal sister. It wasn’t until her sixteenth birthday that she changed completely. The once stylish and elegant girl cared less about her appearance. She became reserved. Everyone dismissed this sudden change as maturity. Joan became a loner. I had school work and other stuff that kept me occupied.
Like everyone else, I went along with the maturity narrative.
I remember it was on a Friday night and our parents were out for a movie. There was a strange smell all over the house. I searched for the source and traced it to Joan’s bedroom. I burst into her room without knocking, and what I saw changed my life forever. Joan had been smoking what I came to learn later was marijuana. The stool next to her bed had all sorts of white powders. All these were later discovered to be cocaine and heroin. I was broken. Joan did not move. I touched her hands and face, and they cold. I shook her body and got no response. She lay on that bed lifeless. I knew that this thing that stared right into my face would change our lives. I had to act fast. I quickly called 911 and then my parents. The look of despair on my parents’ faces tore my heart into pieces. We had failed Joan.
The ambulance together with a few police officers arrived in no time. Efforts to resuscitate Joan proved to be futile. She was quickly lifted into the ambulance. My parent swiftly jumped in, and they were off to the hospital. I was left behind to look after the house. Everything came to a standstill. I could hardly breathe. My once blissful life had turned into a nightmare. I watched as the ambulance drove off with my parents and only sister in it. The next two hours felt like years. My father finally called and informed me that Joan had overdosed and that she was fighting for her life. “Pray honey”, said my broken mother. I knelt down and said a prayer for my sister. I knew that I had to be strong. My mom was crashed. She blamed herself for this tragedy that had befallen us. The next week was dull and void. I went to the ICU unit every morning and prayed beside Joan. I watched as my parents tore into each other.
The blame game, the bitterness, and the confusion were manifested through their words. I went to my then high school counselor and had a session with her. The weight in my chest became light. I invited her to have a talk with my parents. She guided us and held us together. She was our guardian angel. Three weeks later, Joan was discharged from the hospital. Thanks to the guidance of our school counselor, we handled the situation perfectly. We welcomed Joan with a huge party with messages of love from close family and friends. We knew that we had to give her time before initiating the intervention. Two days later, we sort the help of a drug addiction expert and our high school counselor. After a series of sessions, it was discovered that Joan had been sexually assaulted by a senior in high school. She sort solace in drugs because she was embarrassed. The sexual offender introduced her to drugs and continued to threaten her if she ever spoke up. The guy was arrested immediately.
This discovery was a mark of progress. The drug addiction expert recommended that Joan needed to be in a rehabilitation facility. She would see a psychologist as part of the healing process. We all needed healing. We sort the help of our priest: My family is very religious and a psychologist. Two months later, the broken pieces started to fall into place. Joan recovered tremendously. She was back; our Joan was back. She continued with therapy for three more months. We were fully supportive of her. We learned not blame her or anyone else. Joan was ready to face her abuser. She testified against him in court together with other victims of the same man. He was found guilty and sentenced to ten years’ imprisonment.
At the end of that year, Joan could speak freely about her ordeal without fear or embarrassment. She became the school’s head of the peer counseling department. I took a course in alcohol and substance abuse rehabilitation to help other people who suffer from addiction. This ordeal was an eye-opener for my family. During summer, my sister and I would hold conferences and speak to students about drug addiction. We saved many lives. We talked to vulnerable kids and helped victims of sexual abuse in their healing. We became a blessing to many families who were suffering silently from sexual abuse and drug addiction.
This ordeal changed my view of the world completely. I would hear of drug addiction stories and dismiss them as poor parenting until it happened to our family. What I learned was the importance of keeping communication channels open in our homes. My parents were not the easiest of people to approach. They believed that instilling fear in us would keep us disciplined. They had no room for talk. Our home was like a military camp. This changed immensely after Joan’s ordeal. Communication improved, and our relationship with our parents improved. I became a better person. My mind was opened. I became more accommodative and less judgmental. This event turned from a nightmare into a blessing. Whenever I see a person struggling with addiction, I know what to do. I know how to handle the situation without causing further damage. I became stronger and open-minded. Addiction is a disease and should be treated as such. My sister is fully recovered, and she has used her ordeal to enlighten the society about sexual abuse and drug addiction.
