During The 1960s, like many of my peers I decided to experiment with drugs, including alcohol and nicotine. What at first seemed like an exciting adventure turned into a dark dependence on many of these drugs.
By the time I was nineteen, I was getting high every day, mainly on speed (methamphetamines), cocaine, and marijuana, and I'd tried numerous other drugs. I also smoked cigarettes heavily. When I couldn't get the other drugs, whiskey or beer was substituted. Getting high was a way of rebelling against the "establishment" in my country and everything it represented at the time.
But by the time I was 23, I had lost a good job, had two failed marriages, was separated from my two small children, and began feeling very guilty about what I had done. The consequences of the bad choices I had made were closing in on me. I had personal and financial responsibilities I couldn't meet, and I felt it was only a matter of time before my life would turn into a tragedy.
