Science Direct published a study back in March last year, entitled, ‘Youth at risk: The Alarming issue of drug addiction in academic institutions in Pakistan’. It makes for grim reading. The report finds that the country is home to 7.6 million active drug users, largely young people and university students; 78 percent of which are male users and 22 percent female. The fact that Pakistan has one of the world’s youngest populations — a whopping 64 percent is below the age of 30 and 29 percent fall into the 15-29 age bracket — only adds the alarm. Truly unfortunate, however, is that these figures are not available on the Anti-Narcotics Force (ANF) website. I sincerely hope that the aforementioned statistics send shivers down readers’ spines and draw attention to the fact that drug addiction is a real problem. To me, however, these are more than just numbers. To me, each of these digits represents a human story that deserves to be told. These are stories of heartbreak, misery, unwavering determination, and triumph. I see it through the eyes of a sister who almost lost her best friend, a dying mother who stood by her son until the very end, and a helpless father whose son was slipping through his fingers. You see, this is my story, the struggle of my family, and my brother’s triumph over his heroin addiction. In 2013, my mother was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer; a month later, all hell broke loose when my brother’s heroin addiction came to the fore. Thus began the long journey of overcoming and juggling heartbreak, loss, drug addiction, and searching for a rehabilitation centre. In 2013, my mother was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer; a month later, all hell broke loose when my brother’s heroin addiction came to the fore. Thus began the long journey of overcoming and juggling heartbreak, loss, drug addiction, and searching for a rehabilitation centre It seemed like an endless search, as if no one truly understood what they were dealing with. Addicts were treated as deranged or mentally challenged and, even worse, as if they were ‘taboo’ beings whom no one wanted to help. Most shockingly, users were chained, locked, drugged, abused (according to witness accounts), and left to the mercy of strangers. It took us a year before we found a suitable place and someone who understood our pain. But we lost our mother in that year – to both cancer and heartbreak. Roshan Rasta, a small private establishment founded by an ex-addict who had been clean for 12 years, became a beacon of hope in our lives. His small team worked according to Narcotics Anonymous’ international guidelines and were determined to help as many children as possible. In reality, this means boys since no family would entrust their daughters to strangers in an unfamiliar environment. Another tragedy. We were told during our briefing that this must be a family journey, not just the addict’s and that we must all work together to make our lives and homes addiction-free. There, I met mothers, fathers, wives, and sisters – strangers with whom I cried and laughed, whose struggles and anguish had become mine. We were all bound by pain and hope, a symbiotic relationship that became easier as time passed, or perhaps we had all found strength in each other. We all gained a new sense of being and a new perspective on addiction as we sat through focus groups and listened to everyone’s stories. How do you blame a 13-year-old who was handed a stash of drugs outside his school for free by a stranger? How do you blame a person who grew up in a social circle where smoking up was cool? And what do you say to a youngster who made one wrong decision and found himself in circumstances he couldn’t understand, let alone control? From personal experience, this journey provided me with an entirely new perspective on addiction and addicts. I still believe there aren’t enough conversations about this most urgent issue, that society feels obligated to stigmatise drug users, that the ANF team isn’t taking strict measures to crack down on drug dealers, that there aren’t enough resources online, and that we simply don’t have enough professionals who genuinely understand or can treat addiction. On the other hand, I have witnessed miracles. I know people who have turned their lives around and have been clean for years, and I know families who have grown closer and stronger. My brother has been sober for four years and is making the most of his life. Yes, the journey was difficult, there were setbacks, and the fear of relapse is real, frightening and ever-present. But one thing is for sure: I now understand that overcoming addiction cannot be an individual journey. It must be an assemblage effort. It is about taking small steps everyday for the rest of our lives, one day at a time. It is about unwavering determination, choosing to believe in miracles, and becoming addicted to winning this fight. For those who believe that overcoming addiction is impossible, rest assured that it is not! But it will not be easy. All it takes is one person willing to defy the rules of this ‘addictive affair’ to see the light at the end of the tunnel. The writer is a communications specialist, and a researcher. She tweets @Naz7Hira