I can still see myself sitting on a public Target parking lot, screaming for help and holding my friend as he seized. He had been abusing an array of illegal drugs, influenced by his upbringing in a toxic household.
His body could no longer handle it.
No matter how strongly my friend and I held him steady, his body wouldn’t stop shaking. I watched bubbles drip from his mouth. Local security rushed to the scene, examining my friend, who became scared of the strangers surrounding him. He feared his future. Would he be arrested? Sent to a rehab center? Would he lose his friends and family?
When he finally stopped seizing, we helped him sit up and drink some water. Every movement was awkward and tedious, and he struggled to settle himself, continuing to cough up mucous. I did my best to ignore the staring crowds surrounding the scene, whispering to themselves.
Once he appeared more mobile and alert, we attempted to make a shift off of the ground and to a nearby bench. However, his heightened alertness and apprehension kept him from relaxing. He stumbled in circles, yelling and punching glass windows of neighboring stores. His demeanor switched entirely. This wasn’t him, and it scared me.
My friends tried to contain him, holding his arms and pushing him back from the stores to prevent him from hurting himself or others. I sat in silence on the bench, calling his name, and flinching with the noise of his fists. His violence and behavior seemed out of anyone’s control.
At the end of the night, he ultimately calmed down and eventually was picked up by his rehab support family. My friends and I stayed with him until he left, ensuring that he was safe and taken care of.
After he left, we talked with security about the situation. We apologized, saying that he had a family history of substance use. Many referred to him as ‘an unstable person’ and ‘a drug addict’, harsh labels that nobody deserves to have.
As we left the disastrous situation to go home, a young male security guard approached us. He understood the stress of what happened and the fear we were all going through. He was able to comfort us, saying that it was because of us that “our friend wasn’t in a worse situation”.
As I tried to fall asleep that night, the thoughts of him punching the glass and seizing on the ground kept replaying in my mind. Drugs turned the sweet, funny boy I knew into a violent person I was afraid of.
“Addiction makes good people do terrible things.”
He wasn’t punished as he expected; he wasn’t arrested or neglected by security. He escaped with his rehab family before police arrived at the scene. Perhaps in the future, he wouldn’t be so lucky.
However, he did manage to leave an emotional impact, both on himself and the people who cared for him. Although he now suffers from substance use disorder (SUD), his initial choice to abuse drugs gave such dangerous substances the chance to take control of his life. Drug abuse changed his personality, his actions, and ultimately his future.
My friends and I fight against the destructive demeanor for the sweet boy hiding inside. As he fights to stop using illicit substances, I hope he will remember this night as much as I do. I will always remember it. It stays in a special place in my heart, reminding me of the destruction people cause when they abuse illicit drugs.
As I move forward, I desire to help good people overcome their dangerous substance use. More importantly, I want to guide those around me away from their temptations and away from the destructive character they would become if they abused illegal drugs.
I’m exposing the trap before another person I care about falls into it.