Peggy was a white woman in her early 30’s with naturally blond hair, long legs, and a bit of a stubborn belly that was her only evidence of motherhood. Those four children had not seen her in a long while. The pain of the separation was too deep to think about “dealing with it.” Like so many others, Peggy had started drugs without a clue about addiction other than it sounded like a psychological impossibility that really did not happen. Whoever heard of being unable to stop doing something? Clearly, there was a risk of some sort in trying drugs, but Peggy had the invulnerable delusion that is a hallmark of youth. When she met some people in a Baltimore bar, and she saw them smoking something through a glass tube, she felt immune to bad consequences. The unexpected part of the experiment was the power of the high.  That very first flooding of endorphins was unparalleled and would leave her like everyone else–wanting more. Life problems (such a weak word–problems. Better to say horrors) caused a depression that made her reckless enough to experiment with danger, back in her pre-drug era.  Addiction left her mind without the interest or even the time to think of anything else, and what a blessing!  Yes, the onset of addiction was experienced as goodness incarnate.