'My husband has been addicted to ice for two years. I can't bring myself to leave him.'

Content warning: This post includes discussion of pregnancy loss that may be distressing to some readers.

On an unassuming early weekday morning in autumn last year, Steph* and her husband Luke* were driving down a busy highway in regional Victoria, on their way to the city.

They were carpooling on the way to work as they did most days – only this time, Steph didn't recognise the man sitting next to her in the car. 

"The aggression was next level – like he had changed personality," Steph tells Mamamia. 

"He was yelling and agitated and everything I said or didn't say just made him angry. It was so intense and I asked him why he was acting this way." 

That’s when Luke turned to Steph and said in a deadpan tone, “You know I’m taking ice, right?” 

“I immediately went cold,” Steph recalls.  

***

Steph first met Luke in the early 2010s. 

They were both successful in their chosen work fields. They enjoyed spending time with friends and deeply loved one another. 

Steph had just come out of a difficult divorce – her first husband had been unfaithful and violent towards her. With Luke, she felt safe. And that was a special feeling she grasped with both hands.

During the first years of their relationship, Steph and Luke, then both in their 20s, had occasionally done various drugs – often while out partying and socialising. 

But Steph didn't realise how deep Luke's relationship with drugs ran. She knew that he had experienced chronic fatigue and been diagnosed with anxiety and depression, and that he was medicated for it.

It was only after their wedding that Steph found out the truth.

Watch: You Can't Ask That Ice Users. Post continues below.

"We married in 2017, and it was lovely. But we were on a trip overseas on a delayed honeymoon in Europe, and the weather was so extremely hot. Luke was sweating so much and was irritable and said he felt like crap. I figured it was jetlag," Steph tells Mamamia. 

"Then he told me he was withdrawing from cocaine. And I felt my stomach drop."

Luke had begun using heavily cocaine in the lead-up to the wedding – not due to the wedding itself, but the intense work schedule he had on during that time. Working in construction, the hours had intensified, and in an attempt to cope, he had turned to drugs – something he said many of his colleagues also did.

And the vicious cycle had begun.

Soon after opening up about his cocaine addiction, Luke managed to get clean and was doing relatively well – albeit a few rehab stints – up until last year. 

Steph thought their troubles were behind them. They had begun to create a life together – they built their first home, settled in regional Victoria, changed jobs and were looking to try for a baby. 

Their lives were busy, and Luke continued in construction, often working six days a week. But with a hefty mortgage on their hands, Steph began to notice that their joint savings account was depleting. The $250 withdrawals were starting to pile up. And rolls of alfoil in their kitchen were beginning to go missing.

There were other odd things too. Luke was becoming less contactable after work, Steph often calling after his shift had ended to see how he was or when he would be home. But he wouldn't pick up his phone. Nor would he text. 

"I would be ringing and he wouldn't be picking up. I often feared he had been involved in a car crash on the way home, checking local police pages on Facebook for updates. Then he started to stay overnight in the city and not come home, his reasons becoming vaguer and vaguer," Steph recalls. 

After months of suspicion building, on that car trip to work, Steph could sense something was deeply wrong with Luke. Like he was about to burst with rage. 

It was at this moment that Steph discovered her husband hadn't relapsed with cocaine. 

Instead, he was using ice.

"After telling me he was on ice, he then said 'I need help. You're going to help me, one way or another'. My heart completely dropped. I can picture in my head exactly where I was on the highway when he told me that. Every time I drive by that spot into the city, it takes me back to that moment," Steph says.

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When Luke first confessed her was using ice, a million fears ran through Steph's mind.

How addictive is ice? How much damage does methamphetamine do to a person's body and brain? How do you come back from an ice addiction? How does a marriage come back from an ice addiction?

"My mind was racing with questions. With cocaine, I had somewhat of an understanding of what it does to the body. But with ice, I just knew it was bad."

Luke later told Steph that he had turned to ice as a means to cope – work and life was hard, and this drug in particular was readily available, cheap and easy to smoke. And he was desperate to take the pressure off – no matter the cost to his health, his relationships or their future.

A few weeks after the admission, Luke agreed to go to rehab for ice addiction. For a while it helped, but for Luke personally, it didn't keep him clean. 

Time since has been a blur for Steph – trying desperately to get Luke back into rehab and struggling herself to cope with how much of a downward spiral her husband has become stuck in.

For Steph, yelling became the norm in their marriage. So did anger. Sometimes even drug-induced psychosis.

"At one point during all of this, I fell pregnant," Steph says.

"But with the pressure of it all – the mortgage, the addiction, his behaviour – I experienced a miscarriage. He has since said that he thinks the amount of stress he was putting on me likely led me to lose that baby, and I don't disagree with him on that. It was devastating."

Andrea Simmons is the CEO and Director at the Australian Anti Ice Campaign. Speaking to Mamamia's The Quicky podcast, Simmons explained that Australia's ice epidemic is extremely worrying. Especially given the news that Australia has the highest reported methamphetamine (ice) use per capita in the world.

"This drug is killing and destroying lives. The damage is huge. Not even once, don't touch this drug. It's not worth the price."

For Steph, this reality is far from the one she hoped for when she fell in love with Luke. 

Luke has now been an ice addict for almost two years. He has moved out of the home they built together, and most nights, she has no idea where he is or whether he is safe.

On multiple occasions she's had to call the authorities on her own husband – not for fear of her own safety, yet, but because he has threatened to harm himself. 

Steph has also been forced to cut off his access to their joint mortgage savings account, which has led to fits of rage from Luke, desperate to get money for a fix. It's a journey Steph would hate for anyone else to have to endure. And it's also an incredibly lonely road to walk alone.

"I know in reality I can't be alone in this, being the partner of a drug addict. I have spoken to helplines and taken part in some support groups for families affected by drugs – but it doesn't seem that enough support options are available out there," Steph says.

"Our contact now is fragmented. Sometimes he comes to our house to have a shower and get some clothes. He also occasionally goes to his parent's house nearby to do the same, before leaving to likely get a fix and sleep on the streets somewhere. But every time I see him, he's emotionally unstable.

"Sometimes I get texts. Just this morning he sent me a message saying 'please don't give up on me'. I've had to change how I talk to him, almost walking on eggshells in a way to try and keep him in a positive mood without going into a depressive slump."

For Steph, at this moment she isn't in fear of her personal safety, although a common consequence of ice usage is aggression towards others. 

What she's more concerned about is the risk of her husband of five years causing harm to himself. 

"On ice he's easier to handle than when he's off it. The high keeps him at a stable mood level. It's when he comes off it or is searching for his next fix that the aggression emerges. I've never been more sad or more lonely. I have good friends and family and they know what's going on, but likely don't realise how dire the situation is."

Now the question Steph gets asked most isn't how her husband is – more so it's loved ones asking her when she's going to end the marriage. At the moment, it's something she is grappling with, and acknowledges that a split is the likely end result. But there's a big loss associated – because not only is she losing her husband, but also her best friend.

"How do I live in a world where I know he doesn't want to be alive? It's hard for me to move on when I see what he's made of his life. I just so desperately want him to get clean. But I know there's an expiry date. Right now we're living separate lives," Steph tells Mamamia.

"I'm in my late 30s and I'm exploring opportunities to foster a child – but there's also no way I could bring a child into this environment right now. I can let go of the marriage but I just don't want to let go of our friendship."

Right now, Steph doesn't know what her future looks like. But if there's one thing she wants people who read this article to know, it is this: there are likely hundreds of everyday Aussies in the same circumstance as her.

And she wants these people to know they are not alone.

"It's important we talk about these things and not only look after those struggling with addiction but those who are in the orbit of that person as well. There's strength in speaking and not fighting alone," she said.

"At some point I will know when enough is enough. And when that time comes, I hope I'll have the necessary support network to get me through it."

*These people are known to Mamamia and their names have been changed for privacy reasons.

If this post brought up any issues for you, you can contact Drug Aware, Australia's 24hr alcohol and drug support line. You can reach them on (08) 9442 5000 or 1800 198 024. 

For families and carers supporting addicts, you can find help and guidance here. If you are worried about a loved one you can reach out to the Family Drug Support 24-hour phone line on 1300 368 186.

If this has raised any issues for you or if you would like to speak with someone, please contact the Sands Australia 24-hour support line on 1300 072 637. 

You can download Never Forgotten: Stories of love, loss and healing after miscarriage, stillbirth, and neonatal death for free here.

Feature Image: Getty.