In the past four months, I have become gripped with tracing a major drug pipeline in the United States.
From what I’ve learned, this pipeline stretches from Chicago to Philly, working its way through small towns and sleepy cities in Indiana, Ohio and West Virginia. From Philly, it continues north through New York and splinters into Montreal and Toronto, rocking communities in New England along the way. There are splinters that lead from Chicago to Detroit, and south from Philly down through Baltimore and into Virginia.
The long and short, it’s a complicated pattern — more of a web, effectively, than a pipeline. And no one has been spared.
The stories of people who’ve lost loved ones, or struggled themselves with opiate addiction, are among the most heartbreaking I’ve heard while on the road. I am humbled by the people who share their lives with me, and try to hold space to honor their experiences.
When I was in Indiana, I met a woman who shared how her daughter had passed away from an overdose more than a year ago. She was a nurse, bright and caring, who became hooked on opiates and couldn’t shake the addiction. She had everything going for her, her mom told me, and yet, she couldn’t seem to let it go. When her daughter passed, she left behind a loving family, including her kids.
Opioids, meth, heroin — they are ugly drugs. And many days, it feels like there is no way out.
Rehabilitation centers are sparse, one woman in Connecticut told me. There are waiting lists or people are turned away, being told that they’re not addicted “enough.” Her son is battling an opioid addiction today, in the midst of a cancer diagnosis, and has already been in and out of rehab once. “It’s a glorified holding area,” she said, frustrated. “It doesn’t actually help people, 3, 7 days is just enough to get sober with no later support.”
But in the midst of all this despair: in the midst of all the anger and frustration at pharmaceutical companies, doctors, and healthcare systems, there are rays of hope. People are reaching out and making ripples that have the potential to become huge waves.
In Virginia, a social worker I met told me that 91% of people in prison in Warren County are there due to drug related charges — either they were arrested for possession or related charges, or they have fallen victim to addiction and poor decisions have followed.
91 PERCENT. It’s an astounding, heartbreaking number.
Chris, the aforementioned social worker, who works at a nonprofit serving these people who are struggling. The organization is a full-service recovery community organization, serving as a resource for people who are seeking a new path. Chris works one-on-one with individuals and their families, providing support during all of the stages of recovery.
Over the past 18 months, he has worked with more than 600 people, helping them get sober and turn their lives around. The organization as a whole hosts more than 2,000 group meetings annually, as well as respite programs, retreat programs and more.
It can be draining, he admits, but ultimately — it’s fulfilling. Chris tells a story of a young man who’s tried the program before, but couldn’t stick it out initially — and still reached out to him again in a time of need. He’s ready to try again.
Being able to be that person for him, Chris says, is what makes it fulfilling. It’s those small individual interactions that matter most.
Like I said: ripples. Hopeful signs that the tide will soon change.
