Thursday, December 9, 2010

Drugs Are My Prison

I got a note from my cousin's husband. He forwarded a song that was written by his brother's girlfriend whose son died after many years of drug addiction.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UQ9tB0z7Ucc

6 comments:

LisaC said...

There are many mediums to express your feelings. I thing it is amazing that there are individuals that can do it with music. Thanks sor sharing.

Her Big Sad said...

That is awesome. I will share this with my daughter!

Melinda said...

Thanks for sharing this.

D said...

God heals the broken hearted and sets the captives free! :) Thanks for the uplifting song.

Anonymous said...

Hi, i don't mean to be overly cynical but hopefully you can understand the difference between a drug addict and a drug user. I've seen a lot of kids get pushed down the path of addiction by parents who are far too liberal in applying that label to their children. I recently reviewed a case of a homeless 17 year old girl who had become a heroin addict AFTER her parents had thrown her out for being a "drug addict". What they saw was a fairly common level of teenage drug use (pot, hashish, occ. cocaine, ecstacy). She'd stolen some money from her parents for a concert (which she regrets horribly), but her parents saw this as the behaviour of a fiend and kicked her out.
Once she was on the street, it didn't take long for her to seek out drugs to help her cope... 2yrs later, she's in our center.

My only advice is to remove the drug itself from the context of the situation- think of alcohol if that helps. Is your child's level of 'alcoholism' sufficient to warrant your level of concern/treatment?

I just hate to see children get kicked out because the drug they choose to experiment with isn't alcohol.

Anonymous said...

"drugs are my prison" is a wonderful song. It was written from the depth's of a heart that will never heal. Steve suffered from depression and found drugs as a means of escape from his prison. His mom didn't reject him, she understood that he walked a road that lead to a dark void that he could not pull himself out of; in the end the bleak emptyness and tortured mind, won. He could no longer handle living with what he could not have control over. He was a fine boy born in a family with a history of depression. Please don't judge him, God understands. He was my nephew.