U.S. Attorney Jay McCloskey recently gave a talk at Orono High School on the dangers and realities of heroin. My first two reactions when I heard we were having the seminar were: I hope I can get the car that day so I can skip; and, how can I or any of my classmates relate to this? Personally, I have never felt the urge to inject a dirty needle into my veins on a street corner.

It all seemed so far away, so distant, perhaps something that inner-city kids would experience, but certainly not anything to worry about in our quiet, small town. It’s incredible how many of us form theories and opinions about life and its situations without having experienced them. We trade in empathy for a tight, eloquent, unsubstantiated opinion that makes us sound intelligent and witty.

I’ve never seen heroin before. In fact, until I watched the video at school that day, I had no idea what it looked like. It was just a series of track marks, powder and needles on a TV screen; it was not, nor had it ever been, part of my life. But it’s become a constant reminder of a loved one in someone else’s life. Today in study hall, I talked to Nicole Stinson, whose mother died of a heroin overdose in August.

“She died on a Wednesday,” she said, looking me straight in the eyes. Nicole left the seminar

early that day, remarking that the movie was too realistic. It reflected vividly the past year of her life.

Nicole’s mother received OxyContin, a drug similar to heroin, as pain medication after seriously injuring her kneecap. Her drug use caused Nicole’s life and her family to fall apart. Nicole described her mother before her addictions:

“If there were any problems, she would help me. My mom was the strongest figurehead in my life – she was so stable,” Nicole said. “If this could happen to her, it could happen to anyone.”

Nicole’s mother went through a couple of unsuccessful attempts at rehabilitation, and had been clean for three weeks before she died. The first time she went through rehab, “withdrawal was hell – she didn’t even know who I was,” said Nicole. “I never wanted to go home, but I knew I wanted to be there for my family.”

If you’re still not relating personally to this, neither am I. Nicole, herself, said, “You can’t even fathom the experience until you’ve lived through it, and even then it’s hard.”

I learned two things while writing this article. First, I learned that heroin is here and affecting people I brush against every day in the halls at school.

Second, I realized that maybe the snide remarks my classmates made while watching the heroin video were cursory and judgmental. We should be thankful if we can’t relate to heroin on a personal basis, but at the same time we should be aware, not naive and judgmental.

While I was talking to Nicole, I tried hard to imagine what she must be feeling as she talked about what she had lived through. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t identify with what she had experienced.

Before I had talked to Nicole about her mother, I was thinking about my boy troubles, the book I was reading, and that my dad was never home. When Nicole and I started to talk, she said she was still trying to deal with the fact that she can’t hear her mother’s voice anymore.

I’m sure I’ve said, and heard, a million times, “Oh God, my life is so out of control,” but today, I looked into an extremely strong person’s eyes and believed every syllable when she said, “My world was out of control.”

Student Union is a weekly column written by students at Hampden Academy and Brewer, Old Town and Orono high schools. Chelsea Dwyer is an Orono High School student. Tamra Philbrook and Sanford Phippen are the faculty advisers at Orono High School. Student Union is a cooperative effort between the schools, the Bangor Daily News and Acadia Hospital. Feedback is welcome. Send comments to: bdnstyle@bangordailynews.net or Student Union, Style Desk, Bangor Daily News, P.O. Box 1324, Bangor 04401. Comments will not be published unless they include a name, hometown and telephone number.