This is your Brain on Opiates

"This is your brain..... This is your brain on drugs.....Any Questions?"

In 1987, Partenership for a Drug-Free America (PDFA) launched this anti-narcotics campaign ad. I still remember, even years ago, frying your brain was making yourself slow and stupid, forgetful and dopey...... "Any Questions?"

I suddenly had a lot of questions. I discovered that unfortunately it is a little more complicated than a fried egg. The first time I heard what these opiates were doing to my son, I was sitting in a drug therapists office. The first 'regular' counselor had strongly suggested we seek a specialist in drug addiction. He had pissed me off knowing he was wrong about Robby.
But finally, feeling defeated and coming to the realization that maybe Robby did have a problem with drugs, I found one and made an appointment. (Was I still in denial up until that day?)
I sat there listening to the therapist explain to me what these "opiates" had been doing to Robby. It was so shocking, so sickening, and so hard to take in, the tears swelled in my eyes. I could not control them. Robby snickered at me.

He went on to tell me that all Robby's natural feelings, love happiness, pleasure, laughter, contentedness..... all these 'reward' receptors had been taken over by opiates and I had no other choice but to let it sink in. It really sank in as I looked over at my beautiful son through my tears....and he was rolling his eyeballs at me and smirking. This was not my son.

"He does not have the natural ability to feel these things on his own anymore" When he was not taking some form of opiate, for a day or maybe even a few hours, his brain was not able to produce these feelings without the aid of the drugs.

Not only did I learn that day that Robby's brain was not functioning properly, but I also had to understand that to come off them would most likely be a long and painful process. The withdrawal that I had seen that night was just a preview of what was ahead. And that was if he was willing to stop. He had to want to stop.

My heart was breaking like I never knew it could......But I was ready to do whatever it took to get him through this. I would now be going through my own necessary steps. It would be some time before I discovered this. The realization that I could not save Robby anymore was far from my thinking.

It was not a little boo boo,. It was not a lost football game.... and this was his life now. He was a young man and he was in charge. I would have no choice but to sit by and watch... and pray...and wait......

Guilty as charged?

Six weeks after our blow up, Robby and I had our first cautious words. He had been living with his dad and it was killing me, knowing that he was there. His father was still an addict after all these years and I knew he would not do anything at all to discourage our son from the path he was taking.

We slowly started speaking again over the next couple of weeks and I asked him if we could go talk to a counselor again. This time we would see someone who specialized in drug therapy. Although Robby insisted it was me driving him crazy and not the drugs at all, he agreed to go. He told me I needed the help. As much as I wanted to defend myself, I would have done anything to 'fix us' If it was me then so be it. I could handle that if it would help him.

I know now that this is mostly typical of an addict, but at the time I was still questioning myself.

He blamed me for making him turn to drugs. He bashed everything I had done while raising him. Robby had so much bottled up inside, my heart was breaking for him. I racked my own brain looking for answers, feeling intense guilt. Had I screwed this kids life up so bad that to escape it he needed to pop pills? The first therapist that we saw tried to convince me that I was not having a conversation with a rational person and that of course he would look for someone to blame his behavior on. But my guilt over rode anything he said. I continued to blame myself for my son's bad choices. I went over it and over it in my mind. He convinced me that I had neglected him and never acted like a 'real' mom towards him.

I was devastated. The agony was crushing. Why had I been so lenient? Why didn't I make him do more chores? Why did I let him have so many things? I should have given more. Did I spoil him too much? Did I give him enough? We were always struggling with money, but I tried so hard to make life fun and happy for him. Should I have let him experience the tough times without hiding it from him? Were things too rough on him?

Oh My God..! the questions were endless and each one contradicted the next one.

Papaver somniferum

Papaver somniferum, the Opium Poppy, is one of the few species of Papaver that produces opium. The healing and euphoric effects of opium may have been known and date back as far as 4000 BC. It was referred to as "plant of joy".

In 1803 a German pharmacist named Friedrich Wilhelm Serturner isolated and described the principal alkaloid in opium and named it 'morphine' after Morpheus, the Greek God of dreams. Ironically poppies were used as a symbol of both sleep and death. Sleep because of the milky extract that induces sleep and brings serenity, death because of their blood red color. Myth has it that poppies were used as offerings to the dead and emblems on tombstones symbolizing eternal sleep.

In the United States, opium preparations became available in the 19th century and morphine was used as a painkiller for wounded soldiers during the Civil War. The result was opium addiction, and came to be known as “the army disease” or “soldier’s disease.” This prompted science to search for a potent but nonaddictive painkiller. In 1870 an opium based and supposedly nonaddictive substitute for morphine was developed. Bayer Pharmaceutical of Germany was the first to produce the new drug under the brand name "Heroin".

Studies soon showed heroin to have narcotic and addictive properties far exceeding those of morphine. Bayer marketed heroin as a cure for morphine addiction before it was discovered that heroin is rapidly metabolized into morphine, and as such, "heroin" was basically only a quicker acting form of morphine. The company was somewhat embarrassed by this new finding and it became a historical blunder for Bayer.The name was supposed to refer to the "heroic," fearless and painless, sensation users felt after using it.

Between 1850 and 1865 Chinese imigrants brought the habit of smoking opium to the United States. By 1887 the importation of opium was forbidden in the U.S. By 1906 27% of the Chinese population were addicted to opium. In January 1907 the Pure Food and Drug Act is passed, regulating the labelling of products... Opiates, Cocaine, Alcohol, etc..

In the United States Opium poppies were at one time grown as ornamental plants. Possession of the plant was declared illegal in 1942 by the Opium Poppy Control Act.

Today, Opium Poppy is grown legally on government regulated farms in India, Turkey and Australia. It is also illegally grown in Southwest Asia. It is also grown in Columbia, Mexico and Lebanon.

Amateur Research

Even as a young adult, I did not know too much about drugs and the different effects that they have on a person. I was not surrounded with alcoholism or drug addiction when I was young, nobody in my family had any addictions. The occasional glass of wine or a beer was about it. I actually thought my ex-husbands family was so fun and so much different then mine. They always knew how to whoop it up.
In high school, I tried smoking weed and found it only made me feel stupid and sleepy. The occasional hit of speed in school, remained behind me. I tried cocaine once with my ex and knew it was not for me. I had no further desire to continue regularly with any of these things. I did not understand why people were addicts. Until it affected me and my life, I didn't even give it any thought.
After many turbulent years fighting a dead end battle, I realized Robby's dad was not going to ever stop abusing drugs, I never tried to find out why. I already assumed that I knew the answer. He was selfish. He did not care about anyone but himself.

I always half way had it in my mind, that Robby could possibly become an alcoholic or an addict. His fathers drug of choice was cocaine and crack. I don't think I knew that there was any other drugs that someone could get addicted to but those. My stupidity led me to believe that if I took him out of the 'environment' he would go on to lead a healthy fulfilling lifestyle. I was a fool to think a lot of love and a good home life would be all that it would take to shake that 'gene factor'.

After over a year of intense reading, researching, and talking with countless recovering addicts, I now understand how idiotic my thinking was. But when it all first catapulted into my lap, my lack of knowledge was frightening. Knowing my son's life may be at stake, the questions flooding my brain had to be answered.

Why was Robby doing this? What was the appeal? What was it about these pills that made them addictive? Why couldn't he just stop!? Why was he so hateful? What had made him change so drastically in the last year? Was it really these pills? Could they be making him crazy? It had happened so gradually. Or had it? The past months flooded my mind... when did this get like this? He was so angry now. So hateful towards me. He had always been so loving and caring. Now he had absolutely no conscience, no motivation, no compassion for the pain he was causing me or himself. And he had no desire to change this behavior. Basically, he did not give a shit about anything. NOTHING but sniffing these pills.

Was it because of Oxy's? What the hell was my son doing taking Oxycontin? First he said it was perc's then it was oxy's. Were they the same thing? And where did the whole heroin overdose ten months prior fit in to all of this? That overdose should have been my wake up call but it wasn't. Why! why! why! did I not do something back then. How does heroin have anything to do with pain pills. Boy was I dumb. The hours passed as I searched the Internet. I started to learn about these powerful prescription pain pills and the number of people addicted to them was mind blowing. I felt so inadequate once again. I was so NOT educated in the field of prescription drugs.

The first thing I set out to do was find out what these prescription drugs were doing to my son. How he was getting 'high' from them. What was the appeal? I still only thought of these drugs as a painkiller yes, but one that just made you pass out cold. Take away your pain and make you sleep.

Percocets....Oxycontin.....Roxy's.....morphine.....opiates.....the poppy plant.........heroin.

There it was. I felt like a complete fool. I was an idiot. There was never any reason for me to know or educate myself about opiates prior to this. But now it was my addiction. What where these drugs, all in the opiate family, doing to my son and what could I do to help him stop.

Poppies.....the Wizard of Oz.......that's about how much a knew.

A Necessary Course

Digging into the world of drug addiction was not something that came naturally to me. But digging into something that was hurting my son was.

It had taken me another precious year to realize that my son had a life threatening disease.

I had to go through the motions that most parents or people go through before the "reality slap" cracks you across your face and sends you reeling. Accepting that your child or loved one is an addict is something that takes way too long.

While in the hospital the second time when Robby was going through the detox, doctors had talked to us and highly recommended that my son seek professional help. I did not hear their words because I did not want to believe that my son was addicted to pills. Who gets addicted to percocets? I had taken them before.... they just make you go to sleep.. what fun could that possibly be? He's not addicted to percocets...how could someone become addicted to percocets.....if they had told me crack cocaine..... well, this was his fathers drug of choice. I was so stupid.

When I finally allowed myself to look back even further, all the warning signs were there. I could see them now... bright as a full moon on a streaker. It was all so "in my face". The moodiness, the bad grades, quitting sports, different 'new' friends, wrecking his car..... falling out of his friends car and landing on his head.... drunk. When this incident occurred, the doctors who examined him told me then that he had drugs in his system along with marijuana, and alcohol. They told me to seek counseling for him.

This was maybe the beginning of Robby's "road trip" into hell. I wanted to stab myself in the heart for not taking these teenage boy 'incidents' seriously and doing something about it sooner. I just kept telling myself that he was just doing what all kids do. Especially all boys. His words would soothe my worries... always telling me he was fine.. just having fun with the guys. Telling me his school sucked and he hated the kids there and that's why he was having so much trouble with his classes. He even told me that other kids were interrupting the class and he could not pay attention. I was angry with the teacher for allowing such unruly behavior to disrupt Robby's concentration. After many meetings with teachers and staff at his high school, I knew he was riding on thin ice. If he missed seven more days of school he would fail. He assured me he would graduate. The day I found out he had not been in school for the last two weeks I felt completely defeated. Again, I blamed the school. Why had they not contacted me until now! Apparently they were not in 'denial'....there was no intercepting Robby's mission to self destruct. He had given up long before this. He only had 3 months left when he officially dropped out, unfortunately it seemed to him that it would last a lifetime.

What does it take for the addict and those who love them to understand that he (or she) is an addict? There is really no way around this process. You beat yourself up when you look back and ask yourself why you did not do something sooner, why you did not know it or see it sooner. Does "catching it" sooner make a difference? I believe that it might. But the bottom line is that an addict does not think he or she is an addict, until... they are an addict. So they will fight you. They will reassure you, they will reassure themselves. They wont even question how strong (or weak) they are. Unfortunately, from all I have learned and all I have researched and all the recovering addicts I have talked to...... It is a process that will not be hurried along. NOTHING makes it come and go faster. A series of necessary events that lead you to your destiny. It is a course that sadly must be taken.

Robby had professed his innocence. All the words he spoke were the ones I wanted to hear.
"This was an isolated incident." "He would never do it again." "He had learned his lesson." I was so grateful that he was alive that these words were good enough for me. Robby was a smart kid. He knew he did not want to live the life his father did. He was weepy and remorseful. He had scared the shit out of himself and it was over. But Robby was on the 'road' that needed to be traveled.

With all that I know and all that I understand now, I still blame myself sometimes. In my case I think..... it was my maternal instinct that would not except that I could not save my child from anything and everything that was threatening him.

Tough Love!....I think..

Over the next year I remained blind. Robby worked here and there, but would always lose his job within a couple weeks. I can guess now, but at the time I could not understand why he kept losing all those jobs. I never once questioned what he was telling me..... "They did not have enough work for him"... "The pay sucked and they were taking advantage of him so he quit."...... "He could not stand the guys he worked with" (that one pissed me off) But I actually found myself feeling bad for him and mad at the company that let him go. I continued to convince myself that he was just going through bad times.
He had a new girlfriend and they spent a lot of time together. They seemed like a good fit. I was real happy for him. She was the only thing right now that he felt good about. I let them spend as much time together thinking he really needed someone to lift his spirits.

As the months passed, I was starting to get irritated. I would hear Robby and his girlfriend into the wee hours of the night talking, laughing, watching TV. Going up and down the stairs constantly. Opening cabinets, cooking food..... It would be close to 3am before things would quiet down. The next day, I would open his bedroom door and his room was a mess and smelled like dirty laundry and stale ashtrays. In my frustration, I would try to get him up. His girlfriend had left for work, it was time for him to start looking for a job. He would just role over and tell me to leave him alone, he had not gotten much sleep. Around 4pm he would get out of bed and start this routine all over again. He was grumpy and miserable looking. He would lay on the sofa watching TV until his girlfriend got off work. I tried to talk to him but this would just set him off. I knew he was frustrated with losing his jobs and I tried real hard to be sympathetic. But things were not getting any better. As long as I let him alone, things were quiet. But I was losing my patience. I had no idea how to handle this. We were fighting out of my frustrations and his lack of ambition to do ANYTHING at all. He was 18 years old now and was doing nothing. Sleep all day, up all night. It was now the norm. The more I tried to talk to him, the nastier he got. The things he started to say to me would crush me. He was becoming hateful and verbally abusive. I would just cry now out of pure desperation. Sleeping all day, up all night.....

One night, something woke me out of a dead sleep. I made my way downstairs and heard Robby moaning and groaning in the bathroom He was sitting on the toilet while vomiting in the trash can. Worried, I waited outside the bathroom door. He told me he just had a stomach bug. I went back to bed after getting him some water and doing what I could for him. But something made me get back up again. I sat on the edge of his bed watching him writhe in pain. I suspected something more then the 'bug' and he finally admitted it too me. He was having severe withdrawal from painkillers...... We spent the rest of the night and into the morning at the ER. They let him detox while checking his vitals and we were sent home.... He promised it was over. He had gone through the worst of it and he was not going to do it again....

Painkillers? Oxycontin..... Percocets.....? Why would he be taking pain pills? They make you sleep. I was not educated in any of this. I thought people got hooked on things like cocaine... or crack...Where did the pain pills fall into play? I just did not get it....But he said he was done... he went through the withdrawal thing. It was all out of his system, it was over now.

More months passed..... nothing changed. Up all night, sleeping all day. He was mean, nasty, disrespectful and didn't seem to care about anything. His room even had an odor coming out of it. He was verbally abusive to the point that I would burst into tears and he would laugh at me...he attacked every decision I had ever made in my life. He put down my career choices telling me I did not make any money and was at a dead end in my life. I fought back,.. defending myself. I reminded him that my career choice had supported both of us for the last 10 years with no child support. He told me I should never have had a child if I could not support him. Insane arguments that ended with me crying and him storming out of the house. We tried counseling.... he snickered and sneered at me when I poured my heart out to him hoping the counselor could shed some light on what was happening to us. My heart was breaking. Why was he being so mean? This was not my Robby... what had I done to him to make him feel so volatile towards me? The counselors told me they could not help him. He was an addict and needed professionals that specialized in addiction. I was angry with the counselors. I did not understand what was happening. When did this all go wrong? Obviously, I know now, I was still in denial. How could my son be an addict. He was not an addict, he was just going through 'something' that would pass. The word "addict" was just too harsh. I kept pushing him to try. Encouraging him....helping him get through this rut he was stuck in. Anything I could do to help I did. Anything positive that I saw, even the slightest thing, would thrill me. My hope was not lost. I relished in these moments. But that is all they were...... moments, then my hopes were smashed once more. I wanted to do it for him, I wanted to force him to do it. I ran circles around myself trying to make him better. I was becoming mentally and emotionally exhausted.

Then the inevitable happened. I finally cracked. I could not watch him continue to be this way. The fight happened between us that I never in my wildest dreams thought would happen. Things were being thrown, words cut like knives, I exploded..... and he exploded right back. He left in a heated rage... I told him not to come back. It took me 4 hours to clean up the mess we had made during our fight.

So this is what "tough love" is? I sobbed for days.... I needed someone to talk to... I did not know who. Nobody I knew had been through this. Nobody. I was so blown away by what was happening. I was embarrassed of what my son had become. I was scared to death for him. What had I done? I threw him out! What had done?!! I felt so alone.... Who could I turn to? I walked around in circles I'm pretty sure, for days. No answers... no comfort. I did not feel good at all about my decision. I acted to hasty. Where was he? I made it worse! Had I destroyed what little hope he had? Had I sent him into a frenzy of despair... Had I kicked him when he was already down? ....The doubt in my mind was excruciatingly painful. I replayed the fight over and over in my head. I think Robby was right! I WAS a crazy lunatic! But this had been going on for almost a year.... What other choice did I have? I could not control myself, my thoughts, my grief, I was losing it. I turned to my computer..... I needed answers. I needed to ask questions.... I sobbed as I typed in random words..... I did not even know where to start.

I soon found and joined a forum and started to talking to others going through similar problems. "Troubled Teens" is where I started. Knowing now the word 'troubled' didn't even begin to scratch the surface of what I was up against. But I had to start somewhere and the final stage of denial that I was in led me to believe that my son was just 'troubled'.
I found a small amount of comfort... it was the only thing I had. I typed and sobbed out my story to complete strangers....

These strangers saved my sanity.
And so began my journey into reality. I was not prepared at all to hear the answers to my questions. It was a jarring reality that would bring me to my knees.

"I'll never do it again"

Robby "died" that night,....
But the paramedics were able to 'bring him back to life' with a shot of a drug called Narcon that neutralizes/reverses the effects of heroin. His friends called 911 and administered CPR until help arrived. They saved Robby's life, and for that I will forever be indebted.

When I got to the hospital he was resting comfortably. At least five hours had already passed by time I got there.

When he saw me he let his head fall back on his pillow. He squeezed his eyes shut tight to hold back the tears. I hugged him and cried and then I hugged him some more. This kid was my life. The thought that I could have lost him that day was hard to swallow. I could not bring myself to think too long and hard about that. I shut the thoughts out as soon as they entered my mind. But the reality of it was still there and it was the most frightening, sick feeling I had ever had in my life. Even as a 17 year old young man he was still my little boy.

My questions came slowly.... I did not understand any of this. Why Robby? What happened?
My feelings and lack of answers were overwhelming. I wanted to slap the shit out of him for being so stupid! I tried to keep my calm and just thank God he had not killed himself. The mixture of emotions, trying to stifle myself and remain calm for my son's sake were just about all I could do. He was remorseful, and did offer some information... the information I know now, was what he knew I needed to hear. Or maybe just what he wanted to tell me.

"I only tried it once."
"I did not know what it was"
"Do you think I would be that stupid?"
"I sniffed it up my nose"
"I'll never do it again"

All the things a parent needed to hear? Maybe not the ideal conversation with your child, but given the circumstances.... it was the only thing and the only words you could hope for.

I would keep my eye on him. In my heart I wanted to trust his words. My head was not comprehending any of this too well anyway.
"When I was a kid" we tried stuff... sure... smoking weed, taking hits of speed, the occasional Quaalude. And then there were the really crazy kids that would talk about 'shrooms' and hits of LSD which no one dare to take more than 7 times because then you were 'legally insane'

But heroin?......MY GOD!...... Why would a kid try heroin?