AN ADDICT'S WARNING: 'P' NEARLY TOOK MY LIFE

Three years ago Rachel tried "P" for the first time. A crystallised form of
"speed", or methamphetamine in its purest form, it sent her off on a
supercharged weekend where the need for sleep was extinguished and the
sensation of feeling bulletproof overwhelmed her.

And the drug did to her what it continues to do to an alarming number of
young people ... it hooked her. Speaking out, Rachel (not her real name)
simply described "P" as "evil", and since kicking the habit that cost her
her job, her health and friends she is determined she will never go back to
it.

Intelligent and articulate, Rachel is one of the lucky ones who have been
able to break out away from the addiction the drug creates. Her maturity
(she is 23 now) and a good upbringing, education and intelligence that
finally opened her eyes to what was happening, saved her.

"It crept up on me and got me ... but I got to a point where I did not want
to end my life with a stupid drug. Another year on it and I would have been
dead." Her ability to finally rationalise what was happening to her saved
her.

"But I'm terrified for the young kids getting on it. A lot will want to try
it ... they just have no idea what it will do to them."

Although "clean" for a year, and enjoying living in the Bay away from her
former associates in Auckland where she got hooked, Rachel said fear of the
drug is still with her.

"It can still have an effect in some way five or 10 years down the track."

The drug has already left one insidious legacy. Rachel suffers from a panic
disorder, which a specialist says is a consequence of her addiction. She has
also suffered two epileptic fits.

She is determined to claim back her mental, emotional and physical health,
but equally she is determined to get the word out to young people that there
is nothing cool about a drug that warps reality, creates neurological damage
and plunges the "victim" into a world in which their only friends are fellow
addicts. That's where she was heading after trying it the first time.

"Everyone was doing speed and ecstasy anyway," she said "Then this appeared.
It was everywhere and so easy to get. I mean, it's being made here, and not
just in the big cities ... it's everywhere." High? She felt invincible.

When she came down, mentally wrung out and physically exhausted after two or
three days without sleep, she would simply start thinking about the next
hit. Sleeping tablets would bring fitful sleep ... which would then be
replaced by a hit of "P" and another lost few days ... then more sleeping
tablets.

With her partner also on "P", and dealing the drug, Rachel slipped into a
new circle of friends - "druggies."

She had entered a downward spiral but said drugs like "P" put up a shield of
denial around people. "People were telling me 'don't do it don't do it',"
she said " but I said everything was okay. You start lying a lot when you're
on the stuff."

It was costing her $100 for one hit. She and her partner were going through
about $2000 a week ... he was able to finance their habits through selling
it. "But people were stealing to get it."

She saw some of the tragic results, and believes there is more than
coincidence behind two of her friends, who both had drug habits, developing
cervical cancer at a young age.

"It effects females worse ... I'm scared of what could happen to me in years
to come."

She described her years on the drug not as wasted, but sidetracked ...
although one of those years was so bad she has little recollection of what
happened. Auckland was "majorly" out of control in drug use, Rachel said.
"I'll never go back there." However, it had spread into the provinces and
into even the smallest towns as home labs sprang up to manufacture it. She
had come across "P" several times in Hawke's Bay but says if it were placed
in front of her she would say no.

"The temptation is gone now. I'm no longer with my partner and I'm confident
I'm out of all that. That world has gone."

Although initially reluctant to speak out because there were people close to
her who were unaware of her drug past, Rachel felt a strong need to warn
anyone considering trying it to think again, and say one word. "No."

It was a word that could save their lives, she said.