KUCHING: At just 36, Aisah (not her real name) looks decades older than her age. Life has not been kind to her. The deep lines on her face and the broken smile left by ‘meth mouth’ are stark reminders of her past, a past she is trying desperately to leave behind.
Two years ago, Aisah was arrested during a drug raid. Instead of being sent to a rehabilitation centre, she was placed under a community rehabilitation programme with the National Anti-Drug Agency (AADK).
Since then, she has reported without fail each month for urine tests and taken part in every counselling session and programme offered.
“She’s one of our most committed clients,” said an AADK officer who has watched her journey closely. “She hasn’t failed a single test and she participates wholeheartedly in everything we do.”
But behind that perseverance is a painful story of broken families, lost children, and years of addiction that consumed her youth.
Aisah has been married several times and is the mother of eight children, one of whom passed away. Today, she is divorced, estranged from her family, and alone. Her oldest child is 17. She remembers clearly the start of her addiction when that child was just two years old.
“I was stressed with my children and family. One day a friend told me Syabu could recharge me. I tried it without hesitation and got hooked,” she admitted.
What started as an escape from pressure and depression only deepened her struggles. She remarried twice, hoping to start anew, but each time she found herself back in the same cycle of children, responsibilities, and crushing expectations. Drugs became her refuge, but they also dragged her further into despair.
By the time she was arrested, Aisah weighed only 45 kilos. She was gaunt, unkempt, and ready to give up on life. “That was my lowest point,” she recalled wiping away tears. “I had nothing left.”
Her arrest was a turning point. Shunned by relatives and friends, she realised that no one could save her except herself. Through the community rehab programme, she slowly began to rebuild.
Living alone in a rented room above a shoplot in Satok, Aisah has few possessions, but she has something she never had before, discipline and hope. She keeps to her rehabilitation routine, surrounds herself with supportive AADK officers, and avoids former friends who still live in addiction.
“They tried to reach out to me again,” she admitted. “But AADK told me to stay away. I knew they were right.”
Yet, the road ahead remains uncertain. The stigma of her past makes it nearly impossible to find work. She longs to reconnect with her children but knows healing those relationships will take time.
Asked what message she would share with others, Aisah didn’t hesitate. “Do not touch drugs, not even once. Don’t lie to yourself that you can quit on your own because you can’t. You need help, you need support, you need treatment.”
She has also learned something she never knew before, to love herself. “That’s what I’m working on now,” she said.
Aisah’s journey is far from over, but she is walking it with courage. For her, survival is not just about kicking an addiction. It is about reclaiming her dignity, rebuilding her spirit, and proving to herself most of all that her story does not have to end the way it began.
By Connie Chieng