Things You Only Know If You’ve Blown Your Entire Student Loan On Cocaine

Unlike many a drug abuse sob story, I have no justifiable excuse. I come from a close, middle class, well-educated family who always taught me to be independent and reach for the stars. Then I blew my entire student loan on cocaine.

Pre-university I was a happy, academic high-achiever. The fact I now find constant difficulty applying for new jobs and explaining my third class degree, albeit from a top university, is down to choices I made out of blind sighted selfishness, stupidity of youth and a fuck-load of coke. I can quantify almost exactly how much money I spent on cocaine because I was in the extremely lucky position to have my rent paid by my wonderful parents who were oblivious to the fact they were paying for what essentially turned into a drug den. My student loan, then, was for living costs. And given I didn't really eat at the time, as I was (surprisingly) never hungry, and I certainly never bought any books, pretty much all of my loan, in my final two years, was spent on large amounts of various Class A drugs. In particular, snow.

I remember how it started - for the first time, I had no-one telling me what to do or where to be and I wasn't at all equipped to handle the sudden freedom. Initially, with the mad desperation to find decent friends, I went out every night, slept all day and scraped by, attending no lectures, and only the compulsory seminars so I could turn in about four essays a term. This is common with most arts undergrads before they settle into things but, when everyone else had found their feet and hung up their freshers' bar crawl costumes, I had found a group of older kids who introduced me to drugs. I took E at least twice a week, which left me with underlying exhaustion that I would boost up with cocaine for the weeknights, getting through 1-2 grams by myself whenever I would go out. In doing so, I entered a seedy underworld of the city/uni and a part of my life I wish, wholeheartedly, I could take back.

These are a few things I know from having lived through it and come out of the other side (considerably poorer)...

Your drug friends are not your friends

When you're on a path of self-destruction, it's easy to find people doing the same thing, but they are not your friends. Although I had found a family of solid girls in my first year, they were sensible enough to steer clear of Class As. I spent increased time with the drug community: the small percentage of university students, and older locals who supplied the goods and were serious addicts. These people wanted to go on three day benders and stay up til five on a cocktail of drugs. But outside being high, I couldn't trust them with anything. Whenever I felt I was getting ill, or needed some downtime because I was so wired my heart was beating way too fast and irregularly, they would comment that I needed more stamina - whereas my sober girl group were discussing, behind my back, whether or not it might be time to call my parents. Because they actually cared.

Your sex life leaves you feeling sick with yourself

Decisions you make about sexual partners and the depraved sexual acts you partake in become totally drug-focussed. I agreed to go home with an obese man around the age of 60 I had met in a club one night because he promised me a gram if I did. I feel disgusted to this day, especially when I think about it and how much he got off on the fact that I was barely 20. Another time, I engaged in a seven person orgy where everyone (who I had just met that night, bar one person...) snorted coke from each others' various body parts. I thought it was all so rock and roll at the time but waking up the next day was indescribably awful. I couldn't stop thinking about my parents, my old life, and how I'd managed to turn into this sort of person (plus, the comedown would make everything way worse).

READ MORE: How Much Cocaine And Champagne Really Goes On During London Fashion Week?

Parental denial is superstrong

In my third year, At 5 foot 7, I weighed 8 stone and was uncomfortable in my own body. I became hunched and my skin was always a pasty, grey colour from lack of food and sleep deprivation. I knew I looked gaunt and would hide it with baggy jumpers and caked foundation in front of my parents. I blamed weight-loss on college food and always make an effort to eat loads during my holidays. My mother accepted that and enjoyed feeding me up, laughing that 'her poor student daughter needed to learn to cook' and my sister was doing a good job of hiding my flagging uni grades by fishing my post out of the mail - so that wasn't an issue. I'm still not sure if it was the power of denial, or that they had never done drugs and didn't know how to recognise the signs. If they were suspicious they never mentioned it - they just thought I 'partied too hard'. Of course, they then refused to come to my graduation, citing that 'a third wasn't worth celebrating'. I barely held it together myself after that comment and walked to collect it like I was walking the Green Mile. High as a kite, obviously.

The point of self-realisation needs to be triggered by something you care about ten times more than yourself

I had just graduated from uni and was working in a pub because all my ambition had disappeared. I remember getting my first week's pay (£200) calling my friend's dealer and persuading him to sit with me in a bar to once he'd delivered it so I didn't have to do it alone. I was on a date with a dealer. I then went home and took the last bits in my bathroom when my 10 year old sister walked in. I don't think she understood what I was doing (I never asked her since) but my heart stopped. I realised at that moment, when thinking about it through the mind of my sister and what she might think of me, that I had a major problem and I wanted out.

Quitting is tough - but if you've got no money, it's easier

After uni, there is a sense of isolation for a while when you move back to the family home, or into a houseshare in London. You're not constantly surrounded by people all the time, people get jobs and they don't live round the corner. That, as well as having next to no money, made quitting much easier. I had never really snorted by myself (even if it was just me doing coke, I was always surrounded by mates) until that night so that was a clear rule I could stick by. I also desperately wanted to move out, and on a barmaid's pay cheque, that wasn't going to happen at the same time as a coke habit. I remember that year as the most depressing in my life, getting myself back on my feet and it didn't happen automatically. I banned myself from going out and stuck to hanging out with my sober friends, all of whom had gone into London grad schemes. They welcomed me back into their group and made things much easier by doing so.

It never really leaves you

'Choosing Life' (as per the wonderful Trainspotting movie) was the most adult decision I have made so far. I am still paying for the mistakes I made but I no longer feel like I don't deserve happiness and have built my self-worth/esteem over the years. I have a stable job, a family who I have become continuously closer with, a regular health routine and (don't laugh!) I practice meditation. I wouldn't say I was totally addicted to cocaine but I was flying dangerously close to the sun. I know this because I still have extremely high temptation whenever it is offered to me. I have plenty of friends who take C every weekend. The same friends that never took it at uni and only recently discovered it. I always politely decline if they offer, but when I do, I feel a surge of "Get it in my nose RIGHT now" which I have to ignore.

Every time, I just picture my little sister standing there in the bathroom doorway, looking confused and worried, and the feeling disappears.

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This article originally appeared on The Debrief.