Drugs have long become a cause for phobias at the same time and the subject of worship. And there is nothing strange in the fact that adolescents begin to use them as if just like that - "out of boredom" or in search of new sensations. People around, no matter how they believe the opposite, usually do not notice anything or do not consider it necessary to intervene. Our heroine Olga tells in detail how drugs became a routine for her that did not cause either fear or strong emotions. And how she stopped - by coincidence, until the last moment retaining the illusion of control over her life.
Many people are confident that their children will never try drugs. It is believed that this is entertainment for teenagers from disadvantaged families - for those who are not looked after by their parents, who wander the streets all day. My life has never fit into this pattern. Wealthy family, good school, developmental circles. After classes - home. I lived in a cocoon of calmness and parental care. It was from this cocoon that I wanted to escape when, at the age of thirteen, in the middle of the night I ran away from home and went to a stranger to take a hallucinogen for the first time in my life.
It seems that since childhood I dreamed of trying drugs. Everything that I read or saw about them on social networks formed a very attractive picture: as if it was something that helped to go beyond reality, something magical. One pill and you're in space. Of course, I also saw unpleasant videos where former drug addicts told how their bodies began to rot and their legs were cut off. But it was too far from reality - it seemed to me that they were people from some other world. This cannot happen to me.
Until the age of thirteen, I was a very calm home girl, strongly attached to my mother. When I was three years old, they parted with my father, and from childhood I got used to the fact that we are constantly together with her. I remember my mom was very worried about parting with dad, she cried a lot. For some reason, all my childhood I thought that her sadness was my fault. I tried to help her all the time, to cheer her up, but I couldn't. Mom had a lot of boyfriends, and I didn't like them. She went to the theater, and all the time while she was away, I sobbed hysterically. I wanted my mother to belong only to me. She was jealous of every person.
When I was ten, my father returned to us. He did not offend me, he sincerely tried to take care of us. I saw that she and my mother loved each other and that is why we decided to start all over again. Mom said it was a real miracle. But I didn't like it. I thought: "Couldn't my mother and I continue to live together?" Dad, after a long absence, tried to establish his own rules in the family, and I reacted very painfully: I did not remember him, for me he was an unfamiliar man, another mother's boyfriend. Quarrels and minor domestic conflicts began.
At the same time, from the outside, our family seemed absolutely "correct" - I did not stroll around the courtyards, we spent a lot of time together. Life was as if illuminated by a warm lamp light, all tones were as if muted. The family atmosphere became stifling over time. I was worried about my dad and felt lonely. Despite the outward well-being, in our family I began to feel superfluous. I had no close friends, at school my classmates made fun of me. In general, the reality was stable, "usual": petty quarrels with the family, peer abuse, quiet home life. I wanted something different.
Who do you want to become?
One night, when my parents were asleep, I was sitting in a public for acquaintances on the VKontakte network. Suddenly some guy wrote to me. He said he had drugs. We exchanged photos, he complimented me, wrote: "You are beautiful." Nobody ever said that to me before.Until the age of twelve, I was a little plump and only recently dramatically stretched and lost weight. In addition, I always walked disheveled and in wide sweatshirts, although my classmates were already using makeup to the utmost and actively taking care of themselves. Adults could call me "cute girl", but I was sure that no one considers me really beautiful.
When a new acquaintance invited me to come, I saw this as a chance: finally, at least for a while, I will leave the family hearth. A different, "adult" world, adventures awaited me. I packed my backpack and crept to the door. My heart was pounding, and I spent about five minutes with the lock - after each squeak I froze and listened to see if anyone had woken up. Then, for the first time in my life, I sneaked along the street at night alone, waiting for the train on the platform until five in the morning. When I was on my way to see my new acquaintance, my mother called me - she noticed my absence and was horrified. I picked up the phone and said that I was going to see a young man. She realized that it was too late to forbid me to do something, and said: "So that she be at home no later than six."
By the time I arrived, the sun had already risen. We met with Roma, and in real life he turned out to be as beautiful as in the photo. He immediately offered me a hallucinogen: "Until we get to the house, it will just work." He also bought me a cigarette. I was shaking with delight. It was the first time in my life when a handsome man offered me a cigarette, looked at me and listened to what I was saying. It was the last weekend in August - morning, everything is flooded with light and warmth. It smelled of moisture and linden.
I drove home smelling of sweat
and sperm, and thought: "This is adult life?"
We reached his apartment, and I became alarmed. I got so used to my apartment - light and warm, and now I suddenly found myself in a dark, dusty corridor with the smell of smoke and musty. There was almost nothing in Roma's room - just a bed and stacks of books on the floor. Everything was already floating before my eyes. Unable to stand any longer, I fell onto the bed. Suddenly Roma asked: "What do you want to become?" I could not answer - who in general can discuss such questions at such moments? Everything was spinning, breathing became harder. I closed my eyes, and when I opened it, the books turned into the sea and flowed from the shelves. The faded wallpaper has merged into an eerie but beautiful living flower garden. They seemed to be talking to me, but I did not understand what they were trying to convey to me.
I looked at Roma - the same gray mushrooms were growing from his grayish skin on his face. I closed my eyes again and saw colored fractals. They went somewhere deep, shimmered, I kept trying to catch where they were striving. "You have no idea what I see!" - I said. Roma replied: "I can imagine." The dark, cluttered apartment was transformed, everything sparkled with new colors. The drugs didn't take me into space as I expected. I was a little disappointed. Still, I liked what I saw and felt - enough to continue using.
I stayed with Roma until the evening. Then I drove home, smelling of sweat and sperm, and thought: "Is this adult life?" My phone was dead and I didn't hear my parents calling. Later, I was thrown into a huge scandal. However, we never discussed what exactly happened while I was not at home. Perhaps my mother guessed something herself. But she didn't ask me questions.
Don't look in the eyes
After this story, I did not use drugs for some time - it did not work out. At first, I still tried to communicate with Roma. I really fell in love with him, adopted his gestures and manners. He was happy with me when I came to him, he was affectionate. But then he did not respond to messages, forgot about the agreements. I understood that he didn't care. He lived in his own world, and I knew I was just a random adventure for him. He also became the beginning of a new chapter for me. Eventually I got tired of getting his attention and stopped writing.
Although Roma was no longer in my life, my interest in drugs did not disappear.At the age of fourteen, I met a married man on the Internet who offered me hashish. I invited him to my place while my parents were not at home. From the very beginning, I understood: no matter what happens, we will not have sex. And so it happened. He asked, "Are you two or three?" I didn't understand what he was talking about, but just in case I said: "Three." Then I sat, looked at the wall and watched my own thoughts. He moved closer to me, I moved farther away. And after a while he was getting ready to go home. I was delighted. I had only one goal - to taste hashish. Now, having satisfied my curiosity, I did not mind being alone and sleeping. The sensations from the drug were pleasant, although I expected more.
Systematically, I began to use drugs a year later. In the subway, I met Dima - a calm and kind guy who almost never got nervous. He always had a lot of grass and hashish, and everyone in the family used it - his mother and even his grandmother. Dima and I began a romantic relationship. Not that we were very close, I just wanted someone to be there. And Dima also became my huckster.
I learned to pretend very well, and my parents didn't notice. Sometimes they might ask, "Why are you so sleepy?" I answered something plausible: "I didn't get enough sleep" or "I fell asleep on the train." I knew: the main thing is not to fuss, to behave calmly and, if possible, not to look in the eyes. Once I accidentally left some hashish in the kitchen. Dad asked: "What is this?" I answered: "Plasticine". He either believed or did not want to develop the topic.
In general, my relationship with my parents had noticeably deteriorated by that time. The fact is that while we were talking with Roma, I almost left for St. Petersburg with him. For some reason he was going there and offered to go with him. I agreed, saved up money, bought a ticket. Before leaving, I left a note to my grandmother, but she read it ahead of time. At night, when I was pondering how I could sneak out of the apartment, my dad rushed into my room. He started shouting, taking my phone away from me. I didn’t give it up, and he hit my hand with the phone against the wall several times. After that, my parents took all the accumulated money and spent it in my presence. For several months I was constantly monitored, they did not give me money, they brought me to and from school. Then everything returned to normal, but the warm family atmosphere disappeared completely.
"The best, what have I tried"
Once Dima - my new boyfriend and dealer - wrote to me at six in the morning. He got hold of speed and offered to try. I went to see him in front of school, he gave me a tiny package: "You have enough for a couple of days." I used the drug before going outside, and already on the train I realized: this is the best thing that I have ever tried. Everything became bright, I thought perfectly, noticed every little thing. Energy came from somewhere, I wanted to constantly move. What I was planning to stretch out for several days, I consumed in three hours, and then asked Dima for more. My delight knew no bounds.
It seemed to me that life became much more interesting. I always liked to study, and now, under the influence of the drug, my brain seemed to be working faster. At night, I solved problems. At three o'clock in the morning my mother told me: "Go to bed." From the table, I moved to the bed, turned on the flashlight and continued to study. At school, at the blackboard, I did everything once or twice, enjoying my quick wits and productivity. It was as if I found myself in the film "Fields of Darkness", where the hero takes a drug that makes him genius. I loved my new abilities.
At the same time, I had problems with the nervous system: tics, obsessive thoughts. On the street it began to seem to me that I was being watched. I was exhausted from lack of sleep, I could burst into tears out of the blue. The more tired I felt, the more dose I had to take to drown out the fatigue. Now I constantly needed to use more and more drugs. Life has become a series of tracks.
I did not find pleasure in using with someone.
You are not getting closer, on the contrary, you are moving away.
I bought drugs with my pocket money - I was more or less enough. Mom was worried about not sleeping at night. It seemed to me that she guessed something. But she never asked directly if I was using something.
I was not afraid of strong addiction, I did not ask myself if I could get off. As it seemed to me, I was quite ready for the fact that drugs will firmly enter my life. I continued to study well, read books. I had my own trick, a secret that many were afraid of. The one from which the parents tried to protect their children. It was for me a kind of self-expression, a part of identity. Now it didn't matter to me that my peers were laughing at me, trying to hurt me. I felt special.
Over time, I learned from Dima how to buy drugs on the darknet myself. Now I went alone to get the bookmarks. I usually used it alone. Many people think that drug addicts always get together. But I did not find pleasure in using with someone else. You are not getting closer, but, on the contrary, you are moving away. Drugs only shut both of you in your own minds harder.
Once, when I was in ninth grade, a new girl came to us. We became friends - it turned out that we have a similar sense of humor, we could spend a lot of time together and not bother each other. I offered her many times to try the hallucinogen, and one day she agreed. But along with her, her girlfriend also wanted. I told my parents that I was spending the night with a friend, and they let me go without any problems. At midnight we wandered the streets - they were drawn to adventures, and I, as a more experienced friend, tried to keep track of everyone. I went overboard that night with the amount of drug. When we got home, the girls fell asleep in an embrace, and I lay separately. They have just had a joint experience, they have become even closer to each other. But I was just an outside observer. I started having seizures and was really lonely.
Another time, my friend and I tried drugs together. It was even worse. We sat and were silent. Some of us periodically tried to joke, but in the end we fell silent again, and we became more and more awkward. This has greatly alienated us from each other. After this incident, she told me that she no longer wanted to use.
Please help me
Once a friend told me: “Try mephedrone. This is when you walk and do not feel your body. " I was inspired and decided to follow the advice. By chance, I used more than necessary, and for the next twelve hours I just lay face down on the bed. It seemed to me that I did not exist - during all this time, two or three thoughts rushed through my head from strength. When I came to, I was surprised: half a day had passed, and no one noticed that I had never left the room. And although after that I was sick for several days and I had a headache, I liked the effect, and I bought more, and then more.
If before I carefully hid everything related to drugs, now I just scattered syringes in the corners. At school, I didn't really hide at all - I went out in class and used it right in the toilet. The parents either did not notice anything, or they simply did not want to notice. My health was getting worse. Yellow circles appeared under the eyes, I was thin, pale, the veins were clogged and inflamed. But I liked this soreness - it seemed romantic, there is a certain charm in it. I already understood that I was sick and that it was not normal. I thought, "Well, let it be."
In the tenth grade, I entered a new school - it was a good gymnasium with in-depth study of natural sciences. Everything there was not at all the same as in my last school. In the class, everyone was friends with each other, no one clung to anyone. I finally have close friends. They knew I was taking drugs and asked me to be careful. But they understood that they could not force me to quit.Moreover, they hardly realized how serious everything was.
This went on for a year and a half. I was still doing pretty well at school, but my nervous system was becoming more and more shattered. I constantly felt overworked, on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I began to realize that I was not in control of the situation. I still wanted to engage in self-development, communicate with classmates. But I understood that my life depends on drugs. I couldn't leave the house without drinking. At the same time, it constantly seemed to me that I was being watched. Obsessive states appeared. I walked down the street and noticed a leaf falling from a tree. I could pass by, and then purposely come back to step on it. In the wardrobe, I hung the jacket on one hook, and then outweighed it on the other. And then she outweighed it back again, and so on ad infinitum. I liked my condition less and less.
I didn't feel embarrassed
I didn't care at all
It was no longer possible to cope with everything, and then I decided to try heroin. For some reason at that moment it seemed to me that he would help me. Although the very word "heroin" scares many, I was not afraid. I sat on it for about three weeks, no more. If before I used drugs to feel pleasure, then with heroin everything became different - I took it, just so that it didn’t get really bad. There were no particularly pleasant sensations. I started having severe panic attacks - I woke up at night and thought I was dying. When the three-week supply of the drug ran out, severe withdrawal began. At night I lay and could not sleep, although I seemed to be dying of fatigue. But I could not stop moving for a minute - as if everything was itching. In my head there were very vivid obsessive fantasies on the verge of delirium - I felt something black and sticky swaying inside me. I could not buy a new dose to make it better: I ran out of money. At that moment I was scared. I was afraid that I would lose my mind, that I would lose my abilities, that I would no longer be able to think well.
It was at this time that my mother decided to take me to a psychologist. She was worried about the mess in my room, which had been building up for months, and she decided that a specialist would help me figure it out. I entered the office and immediately said: "I use drugs, please help me." On the same day, I ended up at a narcologist, and a couple of days later I went to a rehabilitation center for teenagers. When the parents found out about everything, they did not even shout. Mom just sighed and looked somewhere into emptiness, dad was silent. I didn't feel embarrassed or ashamed. I didn't care at all - I felt too tired to experience any emotions. I only remember that I was very sorry to leave the class - I realized that I would miss the end of my studies and graduation. There was also a vague feeling that a new stage was about to begin in my life and everything would change.
I spent about one and a half years in the center. This is a rather peculiar place. It contains people who have been addicted to drugs for a long time. Now they found themselves in a closed space, isolated from the outside world. Although it was impossible to start a relationship there, many did it anyway, and, as a rule, it was a relationship that was not at all healthy. Relationships in which people feed on each other's emotions - whether positive or negative. If only these were intense experiences. I also started a relationship with a young man there. At first it supported me, gave me hope. But then, on the contrary, it began to destroy - there was a lot of cruelty and cynicism in our communication.
And yet the center helped me. I did a lot of work with a psychologist. Last year I got out of there. There were times when the craving for drugs became intolerable. But now I don't feel any need for them. For a while, I was angry with my parents. On my mother - for her boyfriends, on my father - for irascibility. We even went to family therapy. Now I already understand that I cannot change the past.We discussed everything with each other, and it is useless to keep getting angry. My parents gave me a lot, although they did not notice how they were missing an important moment in my life.
Once Roma wrote to me - the same guy with whom I first tried substances. He, too, went a long way to stop using. We had a long conversation about life, mistakes, goals and means. About how difficult it is to find yourself. We started communicating again, although now everything is completely different.
Thank you for your help in organizing the interview, the "Lens" project - a psychological group for teenagers who need help and a safe space.
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