Clawing From the Depths of a Drug Pit

The life of free-basing is a bad experience. I know because I was once there.

The reason I came to live in Carlsbad was to get away from it and to start a new life. That’s not an easy thing to do.

I started doing drugs the way many people do--I thought it was cool. But I found out differently.

I first started smoking pot and drinking. Things were going pretty well then. I just lived the way most teen-agers do--or so I thought. Then I moved into acid, speed, sherm, MDMA and even tried heroin once--almost anything I could get my hands on.

Cocaine finally came along, so, of course, I tried it. Then I hit the downhill slope. I enjoyed it. I thought, “I won’t become addicted. I’ll just do it on weekends.” I had a good job and could afford it.

I started getting half grams and grams to do with my friends. Then, I began selling it because good money was involved. I lost my job because I was using it every day. I had no sense of time, and I got caught doing it at work.

“Well, no big deal,” I said. “I’m making good money selling coke and enjoying doing it.” That was at first. Then my profit margin started to drop because I was smoking most of the cocaine I bought to sell.

The answer to that was to buy more and make more money. So along the way, I picked up an ounce, which runs about $1,100. The man I was getting it from turned me on to a base hit, which means smoking cooked cocaine in a glass pipe. This was the best high I ever had. I think I became addicted the first time I tried it.

Out of the ounce I had, I smoked half of it, which is 14 grams, in a few days. That was only the start. It got much worse. I did not sleep once for about six days, when I was on a binge.

I had already ruined my family life, lost many friends and also lost my mind. I beat up some of my friends who took my pipe from me. The pipe and the base were my life. I carried them everywhere.

By this time, I was out of money and items to trade. So I began to get cocaine from dealers on my promise to pay for it once it was sold.

The problem was that I was using most of what I bought to sell. I was lying to myself and others about the money and being addicted. If I was not high, I was so nervous and depressed I didn’t even want to be alive. By this time, I really needed help.

My family couldn’t deal with the hours I kept or the people who came to our house or telephoned in the middle of the night. My mother and stepfather suspected what I was doing but didn’t want to face up to it.

Finally, I was kicked out of my house. Soon, I had lost so many friends I had no place to stay. For a while I stayed at a dealer’s house. But I came to owe him so much money that I had to run from him.

One day, I was walking around and it just came to me that I couldn’t handle it any more. I went home to my mom and begged for help.

My mother made a deal with me. If I would move to my grandparents’ home in San Diego County and seek help, she would pay off all of my debts. I had to agree. My life was at stake because of the $800 I owed.

For the last five months, I’ve been clean for the first time in about seven years. This is the first time in many months I feel good about myself.

Since being here, I’ve had the opportunity to go back on drugs, but it’s just too bad. It’s something I could never turn back to.