My Best Friend is Addicted

Summary

The author describes the heart-wrenching journey of their lifelong friendship with a woman who has struggled with drug addiction since her youth, and the impact it has had on both their lives.

Abstract

The narrative centers on the author's deep bond with their best friend, who has been battling drug addiction since they were teenagers. Despite leading vastly different lives—the author living a stable, "boring midwestern life" and the friend teetering on the edge of homelessness and death due to her addiction—their friendship has endured. The author grapples with the constant fear of their friend's overdose and the grief of seeing her consumed by addiction, while also acknowledging the powerlessness they feel in the face of her disease. The friend, who once saw the author as an innocent person to protect, now requires protection herself, but the roles have reversed, with the author worrying for her friend's survival. The author has come to accept that they cannot change or save their friend from the clutches of addiction, but they remain hopeful and committed to supporting her if she chooses to seek recovery.

Opinions

The author has never been addicted to drugs and did not follow their friend into substance abuse.
The friend's addiction has led to significant life consequences, including imprisonment and losing custody of her children.
The author feels a constant sense of worry and grief due to the friend's addiction, fearing an overdose.
Despite the friend's situation, the author values her presence and is not ashamed of her; the concern is for her well-being and safety.
The author believes that as long as the friend is alive, there is hope for her recovery, despite the many challenges she faces.
The author recognizes the difficulty of getting clean and the societal barriers that make it hard for addicts to reintegrate, such as lack of trust, employment, and support systems.
The author is prepared to support the friend when she is ready to get clean, emphasizing the importance of having a support system during recovery.

My Best Friend is Addicted

My best friend is a drug addict. Let that sink in. Let it sink in and think about what it means. You probably think I dabbled with her. That I am in recovery. I’ve never tried it. I’ve never been addicted. We became friends well before the drugs. We were both 15. She was a new girl. I was to her, “a little priss who looked like she just stepped out of a teen magazine.” I thought she was going to beat me up.

She smoked. She had an older boyfriend, with whom she was having sex. I was afraid of boys. Had only kissed one, maybe two and did not like it. I was an honor roll student. She was scraping by. She saw me as a little innocent thing she needed to protect. I saw her as cool and worldly. Everyone knew our lives would take different paths. But nobody could predict how different. When we graduated, before the internet and social media were popular and long distance phone bills could easily break the bank. She moved to another state. I visited her at 19. She’d started taking vicodin regularly by then. When we were 21, she was entering prison and I was going to finish my degree at U of M.

Today, in our 40s, she’s still looking after me. She’s still trying to make sure little me is okay. Today, I worry everyday about an overdose. I’m married with a house and a boring midwestern life. She is an inch from homelessness and I fear an inch from death. I don’t get the regular best friend life that other people have. When Friends was popular, I wanted to have her over and have friends watching parties. But that doesn’t happen with opioid addiction. She cried when I did not invite her to my baby shower. I did not want to put undue financial stress on her. She could barely put gas in her car. She thought I was ashamed of her. I’m not. I’m worried. It’s a constant feeling of grief. I’ve lost her to drugs but she’s alive. There’s still hope. But I know, shooting up, there’s also a real danger that she won’t make it through the night. I need to text her now, just to see that she did.

She’s spent our entire friendship caring more about me and my well being than her own. I have stopped thinking I can help or change her. This monster that is addiction is out of my hands. But I do know as long as she continues to breathe, there’s hope for recovery. I’m not sure where her rock bottom is. She’s been to prison, more than once. She lost her children. She barely has money for food. She has no electricity or water and can’t shower. But nothing is as bad, for her, as facing the pain of giving up the drug and facing everything she’s done and been. I don’t think she realizes her value and importance in the world. That makes me sad. She’s an addict but she counts and matters to people.

We all want to hear the happy ending. The guy, with six years sober under his belt, telling us that he did it. He got there. I want that for her too. But, there’s nothing I can do to get it for her. I promise her that when she comes out clean, I will be her support. It’s very hard to get clean, have nobody trust you and everyone expecting the worst. Being clean usually comes at the cost of losing your whole life. Without a new one to return to, there are few options. No job, no home, no friends, no food, nothing. But when she gets clean, I’m here to help her start over. That’s all I can offer. So, if she finally makes the scary decision to get sober, I’m here to help her bounce back. We may have missed baby showers and Friensd parties, but maybe we can create some sort of fun in the future together. One day. Maybe.