I still can’t hate him:
Four years. Four years of lies. Four years of tears. Four years of drama. Four years of trying to help. Four years my brother has suffered from heroin addiction.
It all started when my brother’s best friend died in a car accident. My brother was 21. His friend had given him OxyContin because he was depressed. He needed something to take his mind off things. He wasn’t coping with the loss. One pill…. one pill was all it took to send my brothers life spiralling downwards.
One pill a day turned to two a day. Two a day turned to three a day. His whole weeks pay wasn’t even covering the cost of these pills since they weren’t prescribed, he was buying them off the street. Eventually, he realised that heroin would give him the same high and would work out a lot cheaper. BOOM! That’s the day my brother became a heroin junkie. Just like that, every moral or value he was raised with was thrown out the window because there wasn’t anything my brother wouldn’t do for his next hit.
I’ve watched him steal from nearly every family member, I’ve watched him lie to everyone who’s ever cared about him and I’ve watched him lose everything.
The last I heard, my brother was living in a car with his girlfriend (also a heroin junkie – go figure). The day I realised that his sweet and beautiful girlfriend was secretly on the drugs too, it changed everything. They are TOXIC for each other. The junkie Bonnie & Clyde.
I feel for my parents. They have tried so many times. It broke their heart to kick him out of the house but they just couldn’t watch him destroy his life and use those drugs under their roof. They loved him so much, they understood he had an addiction and they wanted to help but my brother believed he could do it on his own, that he wasn’t as addicted as we made him out to be (SHOCK).
Last year, my dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer. My dad’s final wish was for my brother to be clean, healthy and working towards a future. All his other children were on the right path, he didn’t have to worry. This was still not enough to make my brother clean. He didn’t even try. This was more of a reason to shut off, dis-connect and completely distance himself from his own family. I was broken. Not only was I losing my dad but I knew now that I was mourning my brother who was still well and truly alive.
There are so many details and stories that I could write for hours and hours. I honestly wouldn’t know where to begin. My family knows now that even though four years feels like a long time, this is just the beginning. He is still no closer to being clean. He is still with his toxic girlfriend. He is still lying. He is still stealing. He is still homeless. Despite every tear I’ve shed from him & every ounce of rage that has travelled through my body…. I still can’t hate him. He is my brother.