My story begins in a small-ish suburban town in North NJ. I was 13 when I got drunk for the first time, at least that is the first time i have ever had enough alcohol to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was drunk. At first, me and a couple of friends would just drink on weekends. Then we started smoking weed. By the time I was in the 9th grade I knew several drug dealers, many of them who were connected to gangs throughout New York and New Jersey. One of my dealers started pushing pills and crack. Not knowing what I was getting myself into, I bought the drugs he sold. Before that summer's end, I had a full blown vicodin and oxycodone habit. Then I got a job at an animal hospital where ketemine, hydromorphone and tramadol were readily available, as were clean hypodermic needles. I was shooting ketamine and hydromorphone every day, until I got fired from my job and couldn't get the drugs anymore. Not knowing what else I could do to provide myself with an escape from the hell i built for myself, I started going into the cities where the gangs my dealers were connected with were to buy drugs, heroin mostly. Then one day, I had stolen money from my brother to buy drugs. He confronted me about it, to which in my dope induced stupor, I responded by trying to hit him with a glass bottle. It was at that moment that I, but for the grace of god, came to my senses. I realized what the drugs were doing to me. They had destroyed my moral fiber as a person. I guess you can call that my bottom. No matter how broke I got, or how much shit I had to pull to get high, no memory, to this day, makes me more ashamed then the one of me assaulting my own brother. It was by god's grace that I came to realize the wrongs of my addiction and the pain that it had caused everyone in my life. It took a lot of faith and building a relationship with a higher power to get to where I am today. Though now I can honestly say, I have a strong foundation based on my faith.