- Drugs
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My name is Barb, and I am a grateful member of several support groups. My story is one of hope.
I grew up in an alcoholic home. My father was the alcoholic. He drank every day of my childhood except for two weeks when he was in the hospital with double pneumonia. Thankfully he found a support group, and before his death in 2012, he had 27 years of sobriety. I will be forever grateful to his support group for giving me the wonderful relationship I was able to have with my dad.
I started drinking when I was 15 years old. It made me feel better about myself, and I thought I had found the answer to my feelings of inadequacy. I drank until I got pregnant with my son Brent when I was 19 years old. After he was born, I continued drinking until I met my first husband a year later. He didn’t drink, so I didn’t. We were together for 12 years, and I think I only drank five times during our marriage.
When we divorced I resumed drinking until my son Brent, who was 16 at the time, got into trouble. He was using and selling drugs and got arrested. In order for him to not go to a juvenile detention facility for at least nine months, he had to quit using and go into treatment, which he did.
I decided I would quit drinking to help support him in his journey of recovery. That was 17 years ago, and I have not had a drink since. I say I stopped drinking for my son, but I stay sober for me. My son’s recovery journey didn’t last long—only a short 18 months. Once he got out of trouble with the law and was not required to go to meetings, he went back out.
Sadly on December 4, 2005, he died from the consequences of his addiction. After his death I fell into a deep depression. I was at a crossroad. Someone told me not to climb into the grave with my son. At first I was mad that they said this to me, but after thinking about it, I could see that they were right. It was not going to do anyone any good if I gave up on life.
This is where the hope comes in. I decided I would choose the road of activism. I would try to reach out to young people to tell them that there is another side to using. It isn’t as glamorous as the movies and music make it out to be. There are loved ones that suffer along with the person that uses. I wrote a book on the story of my son’s life from a mother’s perspective. I go to schools, churches and detention centers telling our story. I also give books away to teenagers and ask them to pass it to a friend after they read it. I believe if I can help one person, my son’s death will not be in vain. I was unable to help my son, and this breaks my heart, but I am always available to give a hand up to anyone that wants to walk the walk of recovery.