Marco Broccardo - Rocks: One Mans Climb From Drugs to Dreams

ROCKS

One Mans Climb From Drugs To Dreams

MARCO BROCCARDO

First published by Tracey McDonald Publishers, 2014

Office: 5 Quelea Street, Fourways, Johannesburg, South Africa, 2191

www.traceymcdonaldpublishers.com

Copyright Marco Broccardo 2014

All rights reserved

The moral right of the author has been asserted

ISBN 978-0-620-60169-6

e-ISBN (ePUB) 978-0-620-60170-2

e-ISBN (PDF) 978-0-620-60171-9

Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not,
by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publishers prior consent in any form of binding other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

This book is dedicated to my beautiful wife Catherine and my precious boys Alessio and Dino, without whose support, encouragement and belief in me this book would never have been possible.

To my mother, father and sisters Laura and Claudia: I put you through the most horrendous hell imaginable. I am sorry for all the hurt I caused and am grateful that you chose to stick around in the end.

To all those who have shaken the bondage of addiction, I salute you! For those who havent, never lose hope!

Lastly, but definitely not least, to my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. You are the reason I am who I am today and all the Glory belongs to You.

Authors Note

While I have made every effort to try and remember accurately the events I relate in this book, unfortunately the mind of a drugged-up teenager is not always the most ordered one! The events recounted here are all told from my perspective and from my memory as they happened, but the strong possibility exists that I may have missed some of the finer details.

Introduction

Society makes excuses for drug addicts and substance abusers.

Some people are under the impression that most or even all drug problems or major psychological issues are rooted in some form of trauma. Perhaps the person had a difficult childhood. They must have grown up under the hand of substance abusers or abusive parents. Maybe they resorted to drugs to escape the hardship of poverty or a broken home. They were victims of their own circumstances. This may often be the case but not always.

The one thing we have in life is the gift of choice. No matter how challenging your circumstances may be, your decision to smoke that first joint, pop that first pill or even mainline for the first time is just that: your decision. Your choice. I say this because I, like many other people who turned to drugs, grew up in a very loving and safe environment. How could my circumstances possibly have forced me into becoming what I became, a shell of a person, devoid of all humanity?

It has become all too easy to blame society, our environment and, worst of all, our families for the choices we make. Its time for individuals to accept responsibility for their lives. Only then can change occur.

We make our own choices, good and bad. These choices shape our lives.

Boys Will Be Boys

The crackling static , interspersed with short, sharp shouts on the police scanners were what brought me round. I had no idea where I was or even who I was. I felt extreme fear. My eyes stung from the glare of lights shining on me from police cars and ambulances.

Despite my confusion, I instinctively knew that wherever I was, I was there because Id done something I shouldnt have been doing. As my vision cleared I realised where I was and it is an image that will forever be etched into my mind. I was in a gutter. I was lying on my back in a gutter at the side of a road.

One of the paramedics must have seen that Id regained consciousness and he asked me what my name was. I couldnt answer. In that moment, apart from really not being able to remember anything whatsoever, I actually had no idea who I was anymore. I had no identity. I was occupying a body but my soul, my mind, my emotions and certainly my conscience those were all dead.

Gradually, the fog started to clear and I remembered my name. More importantly, I realised that I had crack cocaine in my pocket and remembered simultaneously, with some dismay, that my pipe and some rocks were on the passenger seat of my car. I also knew what my priorities were. Careful not to bring attention to myself, quietly and discreetly I eased the crack in its plastic wrapping, harvested from discarded shopping bags, out of my pocket and swallowed it. Sooner or later it would have to come out, at which point I knew I could put it to good use.

My name is M arco Broccardo. I am the youngest child and only boy born into a family of three children. My early childhood was normal. I wasnt particularly rebellious. I respected my parents. Growing up, I was just an ordinary boy, an ordinary child. I laughed, played and ate just like most growing boys should. I told the occasional lie here and there but I had fun, my life was good and I was content.

When I was about twelve years old and still in primary school, one day after first break we were told that wed be going into the school hall instead of back to class. We had a guest speaker. I was excited. I thought it was a mobile zoo or a travelling circus! Sadly, it wasnt either. It was a couple of officers from our local police station, come to give us a talk on drugs. Still anything was better than going to class.

The talk was very informative. The cops showed us pictures of a variety of different drugs, so that wed be able to identify them should they ever be offered to us (in hindsight Im not sure if that was the best idea) and of course they explained the pitfalls associated with drug abuse. For some reason they didnt really expound on or tell us just how devastating those same drugs could be probably because we were still relatively young. This was in 1992, more than twenty years ago now. Nowadays the age of kids who become addicted to drugs is getting lower, with children as young as ten getting hooked, and I think we need to be blunter at primary school level about where drugs lead and exactly what kids can expect to find once they start down the slippery slope that leads to addiction.

The officers ended off their talk with a short video about a girl who got involved with drugs and how she committed suicide by jumping off the roof of the family home.

After the talk, as we walked back to our classrooms some of my friends were talking about how exciting it would be to take acid and feel like Superman so much for the warnings. Not me, though. I had already made a solemn promise to myself never to get involved in drugs. After that I even became an active member of the fight against drugs by using my breaktimes to try and spot the evil drug dealers around the school.

I hated the thought of drugs and I distanced myself from people who associated with addicts. I found it difficult to fathom why on earth anyone would want to take drugs. This sentiment was shared by many others in my class. I even remember going home and telling my sisters how bad drugs were and how ridiculous the thought of taking them was.

For most of my childhood, I associated with good kids. Sometimes we broke rules and we were often caught, but really we were just being boys.

Its been said that the most difficult thing any parent will have to do when raising a son is actually keeping him alive. I can bear testimony to that.