DESPERATE MEASURES

Anna Wright is a university lecturer. She also buys heroin for her
son. Here she explains why, and describes the strain on all the
family of living with an addict

I am a drug dealer. I park in dark streets waiting for the man (more
often the lad) to exchange a small package for a disproportionately
large quantity of cash. I subdivide it into 14 wraps and dole it out
to my "customer". I use the term customer loosely and in the singular
because I supply only one addict who is not a paying client.

My story is not unique. I am one more accidental dealer to an
accidental addict.

How did this come about?

The police phoned. They had arrested my 19-year-old son while raiding
the premises of a known heroin dealer. Ben had knocked on his door,
been invited in by the police, searched and arrested for possession
of cannabis. Guessing the police would probably appear with a search
warrant, I ransacked Ben's room. There were no drugs, but there was
lots of tinfoil with scorched lines on it and a bottle containing a
quantity of green liquid. Instinct made me remove these, although at
the time I had no idea of their significance.

Ben confessed to the police to being involved in the supply of
ecstasy to his friends and was charged. He confessed to us that he
was addicted to heroin, that he was "chasing the dragon" (hence the
tinfoil) and trying to get clean using black market methadone (hence
the green liquid).

The nightmare had begun. We paid his debts to dealers and
relentlessly pursued the few and mainly useless sources of help.
Meanwhile, the wheels of justice ground slowly, while Ben's addiction
spun faster and faster, exacerbated by the threat of prison for the
ecstasy charge. Eventually, despite the efforts of two enlightened
judges and brief spells in two detox units, he ended up in jail.

He became relatively, although not entirely, clean while in prison.
But he obsessed about heroin all the time. He used his release money
to score the day he left prison.

My career as a drug dealer began. It was not a decision taken lightly
- - so why did I do it? I did not want to see Ben go back to jail. By
now I realised that his addiction would drive him back to stealing or
dealing, and all of his stealing had been from us. He convinced me
that part of the problem was the unpredictability of supply. A
reliable source of heroin would enable him to get his life together,
and we could wean him off it. I say we because I did not take these
decisions alone. Ben's father was a key, if reluctant, participant
and without his professional salary, financing Ben's addiction would
not have been possible.

Hindsight shows the futility of our decision. The idea of security of
supply was fanciful. Street heroin varies in quality and quantity for
any given price. These fluctuations and Ben's growing tolerance
resulted in a rising drug bill for us.

Supplying heroin was not our only strategy. We tried a range of
detoxes, at home and residential - counselling, methadone maintenance
and Subutex - mostly at our expense and all to no avail. At his
suggestion, we also paid for Ben to take a range of IT short courses.
These enabled him to develop sophisticated computer skills, even to
the extent of designing animated websites.

There were times when everything became unmanageable. Ben's rages
when we tried to curb his demands to UKP30 worth of heroin a day
resulted in police interventions and arrests at our instigation.

How has this affected the relationship between Ben and me and
relationships with the rest of the family and our neighbours? There
have been some positive outcomes. Ben and I became closer. I trained
to be a voluntary substance misuse counsellor. I studied drugs and
their effects on users and became interested in drug policy. I
learned about users and dealers and the workings of the drug market.

Coping Strategies

There have also been considerable negatives. Ben has developed few
coping strategies. He uses drugs to avoid withdrawal but also to
avoid dealing with difficulties. He is entirely dependent on our
largesse. He has a comfortable life compared to many addicts but that
life is largely empty of everything except heroin. His potential
remains unfulfilled.

Ben's brother has become more distant. He understands the problem but
feels angry about what Ben has done to us. He may feel resentful
about the amount of resources, financial and emotional, that have
been squandered on Ben. He probably feels embarrassed that his
brother is a heroin addict.

The relationship between Ben and his father has deteriorated. His
father has tried hard to provide Ben with breathing space, time to
develop skills, grow out of the drug habit and get a life. But the
problem has dragged on so long now (10 years) and been exacerbated by
theft and lies. They rarely communicate peacefully or directly with
one another. I have been forced into the role of piggy in the middle
in a vain attempt to keep the peace.

Family, friends and neighbours divide into two camps. There are those
who understand and those who think we should throw Ben out. Some
neighbours barely acknowledge me because they see us as harbouring a
dangerous drug addict and criminal. They fail to see that by paying
for his drugs and allowing him to use them at home, we are trying to
contain the wider fallout of his addiction.

All attempts at detox have failed. These failures rob us of hope.
They leave me wondering if it is Ben's lack of commitment, their lack
of professional skill, or worst of all, that nothing will ever work.
Sometimes I wonder if by detoxing and rehabilitating people we are
simply trying to make them come to terms with a world and self that
cannot be reconciled. We might be trying to brainwash people because
they turn to illegal escapisms. Ben still says he wants to get clean
- - but despairs of ever being able to. Life is unimaginable after this
long on heroin. He blames this or that "cure" or treatment, but
doubtless knows that his will or heart has so far never been in it.
Knowing this drives him to demand more heroin to anaesthetise himself
from self-knowledge, or to use crack to achieve a quick, but far from
cheap, thrill.

The relationship between Ben and me has now become a war of
attrition. He nags me for heroin. I try to balance his need, or
sometimes just his wants, against our budget. So I nag Ben to cut
down, he begs, pleads and cajoles and then rants and rages and
bullies. If I don't give in I have no peace. If I do I feel depressed
because of being too weak to hold the line.

It is now difficult to talk to Ben. We used to share a joke, discuss
politics or talk about addiction. His horizons have shrunk to just
obtaining and using gear. My life consists of balancing all the
spinning plates. Ben's behaviour swings are difficult to live with.
If he has had more than enough heroin, he talks non-stop, repeating
things again and again as he paces up and down; or he slumps on his
bed nodding, half watching TV. If he's had too little he's angry,
explosive, unpredictable and intimidating. Lies have become a way of
life and challenges are met with shouted denials, which are repeated
endlessly until I doubt my own reason. I have to constantly find new
places to hide the heroin. Ben ransacks my belongings as though we
are playing some sort of hunt-the-heroin game.

Ben lives a one-dimensional life but he is not a one-dimensional man.
His addiction drives his behaviour but as well as being demanding,
threatening and difficult, he is also sensitive, creative and
intelligent. He is shocked by the destructive force of his own rages
when he is craving gear. He is ashamed of the impact this has had on
us, although this doesn't result in any change in his behaviour.
Maybe nothing can or will.

Tough Love

Many professionals will probably blame Ben for not having come to
terms with his addiction. I will probably be condemned as a
co-dependent suffering from motivated mother syndrome, someone who
needs to learn and apply the lessons of tough love. But if your child
has a disability you don't walk away, you try to find help and give
support. Ben did not commit a murder, molest a child or commit a
violent crime. Addiction may be self-indulgence, but it also almost
certainly has causes beyond the will of the addict. It may be both,
who knows? Living with an addict is heartbreaking - lies, stealing
and often squalor come with the territory.

So why do we continue with a course of action that isn't working?
There seems to be no solution, just a range of possibilities that
work for some addicts. We are still buying time for Ben but can't do
so forever. People sometimes say "why did he do this to you?" I try
to explain that he did it to himself - we are just in the fallout zone.

. All names have been changed. This article first appeared in Black
Poppy magazine