Stigma and Silence Can Kill

Overdose Awareness Day is August 31. In honor of this painful but important day, we're sharing stories from Shatterproof community members who've experienced overdose firsthand.

It was 6 AM. I felt my fiancé, Ryan, get out of bed. I heard him go into the bathroom. I lay there waiting for him to return, my gut in knots that something wasn’t right.

I got up. As I approached the bathroom door, all I could hear was my heart racing loudly in my chest and a gurgle inside the bathroom. Ryan had relapsed. He was overdosing on heroin and was barely breathing.

That was the first of 6-7 more overdoses I experienced with Ryan. You’d think that the panic would lessen the more you experience it, but in reality, it only gets worse. Why? For me, it was because I knew that with each overdose he suffered, it was one closer to him dying.

When you love someone with an addiction, your life is consumed with worry and wonder. The constant need to check on them so you know that they are alive. I was so afraid Ryan would overdose that I had many sleepless nights, lying by his side with my hand on his chest, just to make sure he was breathing. The endless phone calls every half hour when I was out running errands, just to hear his voice and know he was okay.

On November 28, 2017, Ryan was given pure fentanyl. Under the assumption it was heroin, Ryan used it and overdosed. After being on life support for five days, Ryan took his last breath. I held his hand so ever tightly, tears streaming down my cheeks, and helplessly stood by his side and watched as his heart stopped beating. My worst nightmare had now come true, and my life was forever changed.

I loved Ryan with all my heart. I knew that his addiction wasn’t a character flaw, and it didn’t make him a bad person. Ryan was an amazing person. He was just battling a demon that wouldn’t loosen its grip.

The hardest part of loving a person who uses heroin is not just the constant worry that when you come home, you’re going to find them dead. It’s also having to watch their painful daily struggle, knowing how badly they want out, but the grip of heroin is too strong.

I wish people would stop the stigma that surrounds not just addiction, but overdoses specifically. Heroin users are people: they are someone’s loved one, someone’s child, boyfriend, son, or daughter. They do not deserve to die just because they use drugs. Ryan was an amazing, smart, loving, compassionate man who impacted so many people’s lives. His life mattered and always will. That’s why I chose to become an ambassador for Shatterproof, to raise my voice and show our communities that their lives matter, to help educate on the dangers of opioids, and to reduce the stigma. Because stigma and silence kill.

I fight this fight for him, because his life matters. Rest in peace, Ryan Colt.

Originally published in 2018.