You aren’t the exception.
I wasn't a drug addict like the rest of you, no, not at all. I was much more intelligent, too well-dressed and pretty, educated, a handsome successful man by my side, good respectable family. I just didn't fit the profile. I was so much better than all you nasty, stupid, real drug addicts that had no future. Now, would you believe the police didn't care how I looked and presented myself? When they found those spoons and syringes they handcuffed me like some kind of criminal and put me in the same backseat as that toothless, never-made-it-past-9th-grade meth head that would do anything you wanted for 10 bucks. Ew, they probably didn't even clean these seats. He was just scaring me though, they do that kind of thing, people like me don't go to jail. There was no way he was really going to arrest me, fuck, I was giving him a pitiful expression and crying my eyes out. Obviously my lesson was learned. He told me my rights and slammed the door.
An addict is an addict, just like any other addict. You aren't the exception.
Now, what I had yet to mention was that my boyfriend of 2 and a half years by chance noticed my car at the gas station I parked at to shoot up. I was pretty well out of the way from view of customers so I wasn't surveying around me. As I injected that oxycodone pill into my vein, he had snuck up to my car, and watched me do it. The night before we had a long, deep talk about my opiate addiction. I promised him I wasn't using. We'd been battling my pill habit for 2 long years. I'd lied, manipulated, and been unfaithful and a horrible woman to him. How he stood by my side for so long, we don't know. He was the one who called the cops on me and had my car searched. He also called my grandma, mom, and stepdad. They all watched me get arrested. They now knew I was a dope shooting needle junkie, and that backseat was where I belonged.
Hiding my addiction still hurt the people I love. I didn't save them any grief not getting help, or myself.
All this time, I knew I was addicted to oxycodone, that I couldn't stop, that if I didn't use it every single day I would be in unbearable pain. Not to mention, I had progressed to using a needle. I had used it for so long and no one that mattered (aside from the bf) knew, so it wasn't a big deal. If no one could tell, then it isn't that big of a problem. I'll quit eventually. My life isn't falling apart like most of my drug associate's were.
I had just been lying to myself, for a very long time.
Once realizing I was actually being arrested and taken to jail, I had a severe panic attack. They were forced to take me to the hospital before they could take me to jail. I was humiliated, because all the staff knew why I was there and I was being guarded by a cop. I was given some sort of sedative shot in my ass, which calmed me down and put me to sleep for some hours. The cop actually told me he had to leave before I was knocked out, but not to go anywhere because he would be back to take me to jail. Impending doom. He came back to get me some 6 hours after I was admitted, thankfully I was still in tranquilizer world and willingly let him cuff me and don't even remember the ride to jail. But I damn sure remember jail.
I stumbled in, repeatedly falling over into my cop escort, repeatedly telling him I was sorry, I was sedated. He said he knew, and it was cool. He was very pleasant versus that morning when he and the other 6 cops at the store were being total assholes. I then knew why when a 70 year old lady took me to the bathroom, made me strip naked and bend over and cough. Again, humiliated. I asked for a blanket and something to drink, as I had been in police custody from 9AM and it was about 6PM they had yet to give me any food or water. She said no. So I started crying silently to myself until I fell asleep. I woke up to a shift change, who else worked intake at the jail than an ex boyfriend of mine? Humiliated. I got my blanket and a coke though. I slept through the 8 hours I was there. Somehow. My friend bonded me out.
Jail is humiliating, and sucks. A lot.
The next day my family was pissed that I was bonded out. I guess they were planning on me sitting in there a little while. My arrest was in the newspaper, detailed. Also on the radio. And in a paper called the 'Arrest Book'. Everyone knew. Everyone. I got fired from my job. I now had a misdemeanor and a pending felony charge. I lost everyone's trust. People alienated away from me, no one wants to be friends with the needle junkie. Mom was considering kicking me out. I couldn't finish college if I get a felony, nor find another job... anywhere. Not to mention I was in a shitload of pain because I hadn't had a pill since 9AM yesterday morning. So I found a clean rig and a pill. And shot up, after all I had just been through.
I realized pills were number 1 in my life, and I had just hit my all time low, because of my opiate addiction. I wanted help.
I went to a rehab, got clean.
I still haven't gone to court about my charges.
I'm 3 months clean right now, and no longer feel any cravings.
My life is still a mess, but it gets better every single day.