I was told: ‘Stop doing cocaine now or you will die’
IN MARCH 2017 Steve Golding was sitting on a Luas tram in a hospital gown with no phone or money.
He had just been discharged from Tallaght Hospital and the doctor who treated him was blunt in his prognosis.
“If you don’t stop doing cocaine now, you’re going to die, it’s as simple as that,” he warned.
For the first time in his life, after years of homelessness, failed stints in rehab and run-ins with gardaí, Steve genuinely wanted to overcome his alcohol and drug addiction.
“I was lost and broken. Everyone on the Luas was staring at me and I remember going to my sister’s house, putting my hands out when she answered the door and begging for help,” he told the Irish Independent.
It was the third time in six weeks that his chest felt like it was about to explode. He was convinced he was having a heart attack.
The benders would last for days, his cocaine usage was at its heaviest and he weighed just over eight stone.
“I was attracted to the madness of it all,” he said.
Steve, now 34, marked three years sober this month and decided to speak out about his battle with addiction as he believes Ireland’s problem with cocaine “is worse than it’s ever been”.
When he was in his teens, cocaine wasn’t the drug of choice because it was too expensive. But the older he got, the more accessible it became.
“In the treatment centres I was in, most of the people were struggling with cocaine addiction. I would have enjoyed going to raves and festivals when I was using but I’m no longer able to do that as it’s everywhere and I’d fear relapsing. I’ve heard of people in recovery who went to gigs and ended up taking drugs.”
Steve had his first drink at the age of 16 and by 18 he was an alcoholic.
“I had every chance to do well in life but it doesn’t matter where you’re from or whether you’re from a good family as addiction doesn’t discriminate,” he said.
“I’m the youngest of my siblings. Drugs or alcohol were never an issue and my parents are both very hardworking people. Everything was all right for me up until I started secondary school, where I was bullied.
“I didn’t take it too well and I remember seeing a group of the lads smoking hash on the break and I thought this might be a chance to get in with them and for them to accept me, and they did, but things escalated very quickly”.
Soon after starting, he was smoking weed every day and ended up getting into debt to feed his habit.
Dealers were calling to the family home and his relationship with his parents started to break down.
“All I wanted was to be out having the craic and with my friends. I didn’t want any responsibility and always ran away from it.
“I was drinking every single day. Every morning I would rob cans in the garage at the bottom of my estate. I was drinking, smoking hash and taking ecstasy. If I had a tenner in my pocket and I was starving, the drink always won.”
From age 18 onwards he was in and out of prison after being caught shoplifting, trespassing and stealing cars.
His family tried to help but he kept pushing them away.
In 2008, a lengthy jail sentence loomed after he racked up more than a dozen charges. He ended up checking into a rehabilitation centre in Wales, but at the time it was for the wrong reasons. “I just did it to make my family happy. They literally drove me from Tallaght to the front door of the treatment centre because they knew if they gave me the money and let me travel by myself I would have spent it on drink and drugs. My head wasn’t in it but I got off my charges.
“When I returned home after 14 months I was worse than ever. This is when the cocaine use became a lot heavier. I was around people selling it. I always had it.
“Everyone knew me from being out partying. If you wanted to go to a party you’d ring me. A lot of the time I’d never have a home to go to.”
But after that trip to Tallaght
Hospital in 2017 something changed and Steve genuinely wanted to get help.
The fact most treatment centres had long waiting lists didn’t make it easy.
He moved back to the family home and wouldn’t leave his bedroom. After all, there had been days when he’d gone to the shop for a carton of milk and come back with a bag of drugs.
In January 2018, he was finally accepted into St James Camino Network in Enfield, Co Meath, a residential treatment centre for young men whose lives have been affected by addiction.
He spent 13 weeks there and his biggest fear was moving back to Tallaght and falling into the same vicious cycle.
“I knew I had to move into a recovery house or else I would have relapsed, and thankfully one came up in Chapelizod.”
He signed up to a day programme in Jobstown where he learned more about himself than anywhere else. Now he volunteers at treatment centres to help young men going through what he did.
Last January, Steve stood on top of Ireland’s highest mountain with six other friends who are recovering from drug addiction.
The high he got from climbing Carrauntoohil with the group – who call
‘I remember putting my hands out and begging for help’
themselves the Recovery Ramblers – was like nothing he had ever experienced after spending much of his adult life battling addiction.
“I never got that enjoyment from drugs and drink,” he said.
“I love cycling now and the freedom I feel from it. And I meetup with a group of mates to go for hikes on the weekend to have chats and a laugh.”
Steve was due to start a Level 8 course in social studies at Maynooth University in September but deferred it due to the pandemic. “I knew I wouldn’t stick to it if I had to do classes over Zoom, I need to be in a classroom environment,” he said.
“I’m taking responsibility for the first time in my life and I just really want to help people and want them to know that help is out there. My relationship with my dad and mam has never been better and I’m just grateful that I was able to turn it around. I’m looking forward to 2021.”