He was an engineering manager with a master’s degree. Then meth took over
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Former engineering manager Roland said education did not prepare him for many of life’s challenges. He had a methamphetamine addiction and went to a drug rehabilitation centre and prison in his 40s.
ST PHOTO: BRIAN TEO
- Roland, an educated engineering manager, became addicted to methamphetamine due to work stress and life pressures, leading to prison sentences and repeated rehabilitation.
- In Singapore, more drug rehabilitation inmates have tertiary education, showing addiction affects all social levels; Roland's story highlights the hidden struggles behind addiction.
- After recovery, Roland now works as a counsellor, emphasising the importance of community support and humility in overcoming addiction, especially for educated individuals.
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SINGAPORE – As former engineering manager Roland (not his real name) stood in a court dock in 2018, he wondered: “How did I get myself into this situation?”
On the surface, his life looked picture-perfect: he had a master’s degree from a local university, a successful career with a five-figure salary, and a loving wife and son.
Yet, in his 40s, Roland was sent to a drug rehabilitation centre (DRC) and later, to prison, because of a methamphetamine addiction.
Now 53, Roland was candid and articulate in a July interview with The Straits Times at We Care Community Services, where he works as a counsellor.
“I don’t think there’s a certain (profile of a) person with addiction. We may know about (addiction), but knowing how to deal with it is another thing,” he mused.
Stories like his are more common in Singapore today than one might expect. DRC inmates with tertiary education and above have been growing in number over the years, according to official statistics.
There were 293 inmates with qualifications ranging from polytechnic diplomas to doctorates in 2025, compared with 204 in 2021, based on Singapore Prison Service statistics.
Meth did not seem like a problem when Roland first tried it at a party in 2014. It felt like a quick solution to pent-up stress.
After moving from Malaysia to Singapore for his studies when he was seven, he grew up under pressure to work hard and prove himself.
He earned a master’s in engineering and climbed the corporate ladder swiftly. He became a manager at a semiconductor plant and was in charge of more than 200 staff.
But the relentless pressure became unbearable, said Roland, who is now a Singaporean. He recalled how he cut back on sleep and meals just to get work done.
The white crystals of meth promised relief – especially when his friends, too, were taking the drug.
“Of course I knew how dangerous it was,” he said. “But I just couldn’t think beyond that. All I could think about was how stressed I was, how I needed to get away for a while.”
Roland said meth initially helped him stay awake at night and think more creatively.
When people remarked that he looked tired during the day, he passed it off as work stress.
The addiction worsened when he quit his job in 2015. Despite sending out about 2,000 applications, he could not land another job. He had been using meth once a fortnight, but now started taking it almost daily.
His wife noticed that he was moody and sleepy, but he claimed he was depressed about being unemployed.
The drug use remained a carefully guarded secret; he had a reputation to uphold and a family to feed. Their son was only eight years old then.
“I always considered myself a problem solver. So trying to manage the drug use was a problem that I needed to solve,” he said.
‘I was a slave to drugs’
That facade did not last long. Roland soon realised he was no match for meth. He became more irritable, and he started hallucinating that people were out to harm him.
In 2017, he surrendered at a police station to protect his family from himself. He was sent to a DRC for three months.
Ironically, he felt freer in the DRC, where he met people just like him.
“There was a certain understanding and relation to each other’s problems. I felt that I wasn’t alone in this journey,” he said.
“When I was outside, I was a slave to drugs. Everything was upside down.”
After his release, Roland worked as a restaurant waiter, but soon slipped back into using drugs as he did not have sufficient community support.
He surrendered to the police again in 2018. This time, he was sentenced to 5½ months’ jail.
His wife, who works in social services, stuck by him and took care of their finances during his rehabilitation.
When he left prison in 2019, he joined We Care’s counselling programmes and finally stayed clean.
Reflecting on his journey, Roland said education did not prepare him for many of life’s challenges, such as how to handle stressors and rely on the community.
At 47, he pursued a second master’s degree, this time in counselling, and after graduation, joined We Care full-time in 2022 to help other former drug addicts.
“Educated people can be the most defensive when it comes to recovery,” he said.
“(They think) ‘I don’t need help. I just need to plough through.’ And sometimes that will just make them go deeper into the quicksand.”
Knowing how fragile former addicts’ egos can be during recovery, he uses the analogy of driving a car to emphasise their capacity to make choices.
They are the driver while he is their passenger who will warn them – and step out – if the car is moving towards a tree. They are free to drive forward. When the car crashes and they turn around, he will be there waiting.
“It’s not about what you know,” said Roland. “It’s more about knowing who is around to support you.”
