Hello- I have two brothers who depend on heroin. I come from a normal family, we live in a great suburb went to amazing schools, encouraging parents who let us be ourselves. We never had money problems or had to beg for new clothes or shoes. We did come from a big family, I have 7 siblings, but that was also never a issue in anyones eyes. We got to do more then a normal child did growing up, we got to go to concerts of choice, nice vacations. I am not sure were it went wrong, I guess one brother started using and the other followed. They owned a company together a successful company. My brother Timmy was the loving one, always had plenty of hugs to dish out, never yelled at me even though I was the little sister who was 11 years younger. He always let me watch him clean his animals tanks, I didn't mention he collected and milked snakes for their venom, he was known world wide, he could breed animals that others couldn't, he was published in magazines, and on top of that worked for the family business, he had it all. He was never the smartest kid in school, but that never mattered to him. Peter was the worker, worked long hours dedicated many hours into his business. As I grew older we all liked to "party". We smoked took pain killers, whatever, it was never a big deal. I couldn't even tell you when this whole heroin thing started. My whole family for along time was oblivious to the whole thing. We said "o their tired from work, maybe they smoked too much thats why their falling asleep at the dinner table." We just didn't want to face the truth. It started with meth, Timmy did it after work, but could control himself, he liked the drugs, it made him happier, but Peter would turn into a mean addict. Thats how I knew he was fucked up on the shit, he would be bitter to himself and others. Timmy would cry to me about how its his fault Peter is like this. Timmy would cry to me when peter would tweak. Peter would put others in danger. The worst situation was when he thought someone was trying to kill him and he ran around the neighborhood in underwear with two tommy guns. Timmy would beat himself up bout Peter and blamed himself. They stopped taking meth, and fell deeply in love with heroin, their drug of choice. At this point my parents forced them to move back home for their own safety. This was after many attempts of rehabs were they never put in time, and did no good. Things were worse then what I thought. Night after night of me finding them laying on the garage floor, sleeping at the table, both of them pounding down sweets such as cookies and cake. I found my brothers blue like the ocean half a dozen times. I would blow into their mouths and pound their chests break a rib ( I weigh 100 pounds), till they could breath again. I ended up an alcoholic pill popper. I knew when I came home I would have to deal with them, driving them around late at night to get food, Timmy was so bad he sold his car, and home, and spent it all on drugs. Finally after a year of endless number of blacked out nights, I knew my brothers could never get better if I also had an addiction. I stopped on my own and got better, I cut myself off from all my friendsI put my energy into something important, college. at this point I was 19 and just finished my second year of college. I went to a small liberal college near home, I couldent leave my brothers, their addiction turned into my problem too. I continued to try and help them. Timmy got off the shit, and Peter was worse then ever. Timmy moved out and was sober for 1.5 years. Peter was worse then ever. It was at the point that my brother and I had to share a room, just so I knew he was breathing at night. My little brother and sisters gave up on them, the steeling, the yelling, they wanted nothing to do with either of them. It was February 28th, two days after of little brothers 9th birthday, about 5:30 Am. I laid in my bed awake for no reason. I had a feeling a bad feeling, but wasn't sure what to do with it. I tossed and turned in my bed that was next to Peters who was doing the same. We laid their laughing about something funny my Dad did at work the other day, when we heard the garage door shut hard, and my Mother and Father come in. I cried hard, I knew exactly what was going on, Timmy was dead. My brother ran downstairs, ran backup and said he's dead. I covered my face with my hands and fell hard on my bed. The next time I looked at my clock it was 6:12 pm, two days later. I laid in my bed for two days, and though it had been 1 hour. The pain from a missing sibling is something you cant explain, its a feeling most have not felt. Watching my Mother and little siblings cry was harder to watch then anything ive seen before. It had been almost two years since then, and Peter has relapsed several times, and is working on getting better. Currently he is sober, but he is still not getting the help he needs. Court will not grant us the right to make decisions for him, even when he is clearly fucked up in a court of law. The image that always pops up in my head of my brother Timmy is him hugging me sober, I can even remember colors I saw. This is only the jist of what it was like dealing with two brothers who were dependent on heroin and each other. It was never a dual moment. I am currently working on getting my doctorates in rehabilitation, with my masters in developmental therapy. I want to help Mothers who are dependent on drugs, and work with their children they put at risk. My story is something I want to share with all, but unfortunately it hasn't ended. I need to put all the moments I had with my brothers to share with people with the same situation.
Hello kmarino, Wow, what a story. Keep writing. All of us here have relatives who are addicted to drugs or alcohol. And we all feel lost. Learning to get our own lives back is a major issue. The addicted will make up their own minds when to get clean and live a decent life. Some never get clean. Many will die young. Let's hear more from you. Hugs to you, Deb