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Hey did I tell you we got another drug pusher arrested Saturday night? It was quite comical. He texted our child's phone offering to come over and bring drugs...weed and coke, and I told him to come on over! We called the police and they said they couldn't do anything just from a text message. So we got this guy on his way over, and I tell my husband what I had done. He went to our child's room and got a softball bat, and I got some handcuffs...yeah don't even want to know WHY there are handcuffs in the room...and we waited.
He showed up in the neighborhood, and texted our child again because he only knew the neighborhood, not the house...thank God. He was wanting our child to come to his car. My husband called the police again and told them what we were told by the prowl officer, and they said, "oh well they have a whole other set of rules that they go by, we'll send someone out" Whew! finally they were on their way. In the mean time, I was stalling the guy, telling him I couldn't find my shoes, I had to go pee, wait Mom's calling...HA-HA 20 minutes he's still waiting...circling the block and parking right across the street from our house, and the police are still not there. Then I call the police and tell them I'm home alone and scared cause a big guy keeps circling our block and now he's parked across from my house, and could they PLEASE hurry and send someone out here?? She said that was the second call about that guy...(no duh), and that the first cop had to go to an accident, so she would send another officer over there. I said" Please tell him to HURRY!! I'm SCARED!!" I texted him the whole time, telling him I was coming out to his car. He pulled away and I just knew he got away, so I texted him and said..."WTF??? I was right behind your car and you leave??? come back! I wanna get high, and we can kickit by the pool. Why did you leave??" He said, "I didn't see you, I'll come back." On his way back he got pulled over. My husband decided to go for a walk, and he stopped and told the police he was the one who called so they said they would come to our house when they were finished. They tore the carpet out of his car, and had him in cuffs. They arrested him for alcohol possession, drug paraphernalia, and prescription pills without a prescription...and he was on probation so he went to jail!! I told the police that he said he had coke at his house to sell, so they called his Mom and told her they were coming with the drug dog!! Greatest part, after I knew he was in jail, I got on my child's MySpace page and sent the guy an e-mail. I said "So how did you like going back to jail? Saturday night was no co-incidence. Massive neighborhood watch going on here...Keep offering my kids drugs and watch your butt go back to jail, EVERY TIME!" Yeah it was a little over dramatic, but GOD it made me feel GREAT!!! Thought you might get a kick out of this story...I know I do...one more DOWN!!! |
I am a 51 year old mother of a 33 year old son. Last night he fell asleep in our upstairs bedroom decorated with glowing stars on the ceiling. He is my baby, my big boy, my son.
He graduated High School in 1995 an honor student with big blue eyes and a shy, bright smile. By fall he was in college. He made it through one year of college and was kicked out for having a marijuana leaf framed and sitting on his desk. From there he went to the Navy to get away from our small town. He "left" the Navy after nine months because of drugs. Then it turned into meth and alcohol. His eyes dimmed, his teeth started to crumble. No dreams, hungry, homeless, arrested. His father and I bailed him out the first time maybe the second time too...I think. Once we even put our home up for bail... Then we stopped. My son entered drug rehabs two times...maybe three...I think. By 2001 he had a son born to a meth addict mom. I took custody of my grandson. It is his glowing stars on the ceiling now that my son sees when the lights go out. My grandson's mother rose from the ashes of meth and broke free. She now has my grandson and they are very happy and safe. His best friend is his five year old sister. They both come to my house almost every weekend... Once, I worked near the jail where my son was held. I would sit outside the building every day before I went home and cry and pray. On one of his court days I drove to a nearby parking lot I knew the prisoners would cross on their way to court. There...there he was in a line of young men chained together, all dressed in orange. I cried and the line of men all became the five year olds I had walked with to kindergarten...The pain...there are no words...only a deep guttural sound of despair of the heart and soul... I blamed myself. I blamed my husband. I couldn't believe there wasn't SOMETHING I could do or say to save him from the demons that had stolen my son away. I prayed...blood and tears. I still supervise any visit he has with my precious blue eyed freckled grandson...his son. My wedding rings and many other things were stolen and sold away. He gave drugs to his younger brother. They were in a car accident. His little brother is now 27. He has permanent brain damage. I try to take care of him too. My sons are my heart walking. Where they go...my heart goes too. My oldest son set our home on fire while we slept one night about three years ago. We woke up in time and got out. He has been back in our small town now almost a year. We helped him start once again. Now here we are. He is his own worst enemy. He started drinking hard liquor, doing drugs when or where ever he could get them. Even the drug cooks and dealers keep him at bay. He sets fires in old barns and fields...No one sees him. Only God knows. Two days ago...his first cousin and a friend or two caught him out and while one got his attention the other attacked. The first blow was to the left side of his head. It broke his cheek bone and busted skin and bone from cheek to brow to ear. They stomped his head. They stomped his left arm leaving it in shatters. He said he told them not to do this over and over and all he knew was he was trying to get to his grandma's house which was about 100 feet away. He didn't make it. While he was unconscious...they stabbed him up and down his legs. They drug his body and stripped his shirt off. They left him for dead and in the dark...alone. When he became conscious, he tells me his arm was limp and blood was everywhere...he pushed with his legs and one bleeding arm and one eye to see...he scooted and crawled to his 80 year old grandma's back door. She heard the door making a noise and found him there...on the garage floor in blood. Police and paramedics rushed in. He lived. I dressed his leg wounds today. It was all I could do to keep from closing my arms around him and never letting go. But, I have had to let go. I have to. Jesus help me. It is almost bedtime again and I know he is safe for now...for tonight. He is talking about rehab again. He wants to farm with his dad...again. The police will pick up his cousin soon. God help us. Drugs and alcohol ravage our family. But, there is still love...because God is here. |
You see, she was an honor student, - with everything good in her life - until ...
She was worried about her weight that year ... Grade 8. She was 13 and the teachers talked about everything so perfect - her aspirations to become a plastic surgeon; so much talent. Her teachers state how respected she was by her peers, excellent in everything...even her nutrition. She was on the honor roll that year and had never missed a day of school...until this evil person gave her crystal meth. (To try for weight loss he said.) She did try it all right. She was hooked immediately and went crazy. She lost her education and schooling, (expelled within two weeks)… No one knew what was wrong with her. When she went crazy she completely lost her mind - spitting up flem all over the carpets, crawling around in the middle of the night scouring the floors for whatever, taking a knife to a family member because he wouldn't purchase cigarettes. Covering windows in heavy wool blankets, she slept most days or would be up for five days straight. She had become possessed. But by WHAT? No one recognized the DRUG and I couldn't smell it or find any signs - only different symptoms and each professional had a different diagnosis because she had become psychotic. Never did she admit at any point to using crystal meth. Only her confession to a friend and her heart wrenching diaries speaking of having to get away from the "white stuff." It was 1998 when everyone realized what was going on and it was too late. She had become so bulimic and weight obsessed that she would buy-shirts that were a toddler's size 4. ... And I would sleep with any money in the house under my mattress every night because she had become such a thief. Her menstrual cycle ceased, (barely started) her breasts did not fully develop, and she now is incontinent and at times has no bowel control. She became obsessed with cutting things and plucking her eyebrows for hours on end. She cut all my underwear and good dresses. Sometimes just little "snips" here and there. I can't tell anyone still. It's the stigma. I dropped my friends and had NO ONE over when she was still at home, and kept busy at work...No one knew the horror. She quickly ended up on the streets and deteriorated in front of my eyes - to this paranoid shell of a "monster”. Today she resides with various "friends" desperately addicted and she can't recover. No help. No beds. No will power ... And everyday I watch her die. Some days now I yearn to help her end her life because it is so unbearable for her. The drug has made me crazy as well. I even tried to scare her straight by suggesting one of her drug contacts was being questioned by police for the missing women on the downtown eastside and they had come to speak to me about it. So you see...it has been a long struggle. But I couldn't speak out about it. The shame, I guess. Concerned about what other people will think...where I failed her as her mother. My child is now riddled with marks; her veins all collapsed and scars up and down both arms. Her eyesight is destroyed. I cannot allow myself to give her any more money because I found her in my bathroom two weeks ago with her arm wrapped in a tensor bandage and a needle sticking out of her thigh. Both legs were streaked with blood as was her arm. I am not sure today if it is crystal or heroin. To tell her to "go away" - to not answer the door or be able to help the person you love more than anything else. It truly is excruciating. Meth has destroyed my daughter as it has destroyed many other lives. |
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“I came across your web site thru my therapists and was very touched by some of the stories I had read from people who have encountered drug addiction or they have known loved ones struggling with theirs. I felt compelled to share my story:
Let me tell you about my friend (or at least I thought)...Meth! This is a very sensitive topic for me and one that has been hard for me to write about. I have debated for some time now if I was going to write about it or not. With all the changes in my life lately, all good, I finally decided to do it...write about it, especially if it will help anyone else out there. There are many people at this point that know about my past, my drug use...yes its true....I'm a recovered drug addict. All the way up to the age of 36 I had never participated in doing drugs. I was very naive to drugs and the party life. Over the years once in awhile I would smoke weed but that was it. I’m a very social person and I have never really cared what you do or who you are with as long as you’re cool to me then I’m cool with you. I’m one who knew people everywhere I went. One of my friends described me as a Martha Stewart type who knew people in every county. Most of my friends were doing drugs one kind or another. But they all knew I didn’t and that was cool. I don’t know what happened but there came a time in my life that the stress was so bad and I started feeling lonely, sad and scared. At 36 I was introduced to Ecstasy. I had met a new friend and we became so close. He was the world to me. He made me feel special and loved. He made me feel beautiful again. He also introduced "X" to me one night...on my 36th B-day at a club. I hadn't been to a club for years and I had never been to a gay club. It was so different and exciting to me. I turned the "X" down that night but my best friend at the time decided to try it. For a week she would go on and on about that experience and I should try it. She said it was the most wonderful experience ever. About 2 weeks later I’m in Memphis with my best friend and I did it. I tried it. She was right; it put me somewhere else, a place I didn’t think about any stress or issues going on in my life. Every so often for months I would partake in "X". I was in a different world, it was wonderful to me. Things in my life started changing slowly, I was changing, and my best friend was changing. Eventually, she went to a different level then me and started doing other things besides "X". I eventually stopped doing "X" and got myself back on track. I couldn’t do it anymore, didn’t want to. Too many bad things started happening. It was so hard though because everything had changed in my life. I was determined to keep on the straight and narrow though and I did for a while. After time went by, I was invited over to my best friend’s house to visit and have coffee talk. I hadn’t seen her in awhile (because we lived 2 different lives at this point & she respected that, all my friends did). I decided to go and see everyone, thought it would be nice. All night long we drank coffee and chatted. I started feeling funny and didn’t know why. Many hours later my best friend had realized that I had been drinking the wrong coffee, I guess. I had not a clue. Apparently there was regular coffee and what they were calling “High Octane Coffee” (made with Meth). She started crying and telling me how sorry she was. I still didn’t get it and couldn’t understand why she was so upset over me drinking coffee. She finally explained to me what High Octane coffee is. At this point I didn’t really care (I mean, I was high and not thinking right) and kind of shrugged it off and told her, "oh well...it’s just one time, no harm done". She looked at me and said, "You don’t understand, you will want again". I kept arguing with her, assuring her that I was never going to do it again. All I knew at that moment was that I was in a place like I had never experienced before, I was high as a kite and feeling fantastic! Well, she was right. That one time I experienced it, it took a hold on me and was determined to never let me go. Two weeks later I did it again and from there I had entered a life of gradual lies, deception, depression and the worse it got the more I used. I had found my new best friend...Meth. My friend, Meth gave me comfort, made me feel invincible, happy; creative...I could do anything with my friend with me. I had no idea that this was the beginning of a long road of destruction and heartache. I started binging on Meth and "X". I sometimes would stay up for 3 days or more. The coming down was awful at times and I would swear I wasn’t going to do it again after coming down, being scared, crying & wasting my days catching up on sleep. But you seem to forget about the coming down part after a few days and your focus goes right back to that "happy place". I started secluding myself, getting paranoid and the relationship I was in had ended. My house was known as the coffee shop. I started recruiting users to buy Sudafed to support my habit and theirs. None of this I blamed on Meth. I actually didn’t think anything was wrong or anything was wrong with me. I eventually started smoking it then snorting it and sometimes parachute it (normally you put a little in a piece of tissue or something like that and swallow it). One night I had an awful experience. Well, it was to me. Some people on Meth embrace these experiences… I didn’t. They are called, "visuals". I started hearing shit and seeing things that were not really there. It scared the crap out of me. I got to the point that at times I would walk around my house talking to myself, seeing shit and one minute laughing and the next minute crying. I was a complete emotional roller coaster wreck. I was out of control. Meth was in control of me. I would call my friends wanting help but no one would come. No one would help. Why? Because people "using" are not going to be there for you in that manner, they don’t want to help you, they want to get high with you. As long as you’re "using" they all will be there. I had to learn this the hard way. I finally got clean with the help from a friend of mine who had gone to rehab. But he kept telling me in order to make myself better I had to stay away from anyone doing it and places I could get it (like certain clubs....also known as candy shops). But I couldn’t just walk away from my best friend; I had known her for 18 years. I loved her with all my heart. I also couldn’t walk away from the man I met that made me feel so loved. For the longest time I struggled to stay clean and keep my 2 special friends in my life.....didn’t work. Eventually I would fall thru the cracks again and seek comfort and happiness and fun in Meth. By this time I was in another relationship and lying to myself and her...AGAIN. And again...I was in denial. This time around I was in control of the Meth instead of the Meth being in control of me. That’s how I justified it anyway. Being in control of Meth means: you are doing it not because you have to have it all the time. You are not doing it every day or even once a week. With me I would do it maybe once a month and it would become my one weekend out the month I called my "splurge" time. With me I wasn’t letting it take control and take over my priorities...my life. You can be in control for years, but you’re still an addict. The difference between some people being in control and not being in control is...example: Being an addict & still holding down a job (being in control) and being an addict and can't keep a job (not being in control). That’s just ONE example. Eventually my close knit circle of friends of many, many years changed and we grew apart and I had another failed relationship in my life. I sat back and watched so many of my friends get out of control and at this point I knew I was lying to myself. I realized one day looking back at the way we all use to be and what we had become, well, it made me sad. No one was the same anymore. Everything in their lives came down to "the dope". I didn’t want to believe that, but it was true. People I once trusted 110% I couldn’t trust anymore. People who I thought loved me was questioning my friendship towards them and pushing me away. Some of them acted Bi Polar eventually. I’ve seen my friends do anything for dope. Steal, lie and sleep with every Tom, Dick and Harry for dope. It was a hard wake up call for me. I looked at everyone and I just could not let myself get to that point. I didn’t want to. It scared me...it really did. It was really sad and heart breaking seeing all this and experiencing it and not being able to do a damn thing about it. I couldn’t help any of them. And my 2 closest friends were gone forever, I couldn’t bring them back and I finally realized that. I could only help myself. So many days and months and years I had hoped and believed my best friend would come back to me. It never happened, it just got worse. If anything I just wanted them to take control, to be like me. But then I thought, "Be like me?" That’s never going to happen, if anything I was going to end up like them! I finally decided to walk away and let them go so I could make me better and have the life I want and need for me and my kids and if I was ever going to have a relationship with anyone...I had to do it....shut that door and never look back. I think that was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. Turn my back on people I love to help myself and to love me again. I have been thru so much to get me to the point of where I’m at now......CLEAN! I could write a book on everything that has happened to me while using Meth and being around other users...maybe someday I will write a book. Believe me, this blog was long enough, but it was only half of what I have seen, encountered and experienced. One of the reasons I’ve had a hard time writing about this is because of judgmental people. Yes, I messed up years ago when I took that first "X" pill, but I have learned so much since then. I’ve been talked about, I’ve been bashed on Myspace and people still call me a Meth head. Well, honestly...being a recovered addict you will always be an addict. It’s not easy; I can say it gets easier and easier as time goes by. But it’s always in that back of your mind...hiding....waiting. It’s a struggle but it’s worth it. I love where I am at now. I love me. It is not the user that is bad; it is the drugs that are bad. It’s up to me and people who truly love me to keep it far back in my mind...keep it from coming out. I do not have a damn thing to be ashamed of as long as I helping myself and keep making everything better one day at a time and keeping it that way. What gets me is people making fun of people like me or being malicious about our past, our addiction. Let me tell everyone out there who feels the need to spread rumors true or not; think drug addiction is funny or keep smack going even years later and the people who keep labeling people as Meth heads who have worked hard and struggled with addiction and have actually made a better life for themselves.......YOU could find yourself in the shoes I once wore someday. You never know...I never thought in a million years I would ever have to say, "I’m a recovering addict". Drugs are not funny! I would never wish what I’ve been thru on anybody...not even my enemies! Instead of ridiculing people & being malicious towards people and their past, why not praise their efforts and hard work and wish them the best? It’s sad to know that there are people out there who thrive on others misfortunes and get something out of watching people fall (in other words mess up). Why not be that person to help someone up when they fall instead of walking away or walking all over them and keeping them down! At least try to help. You cannot change an addict, you cannot make them stop. They have to want to; they have to want to help themselves. But, you can give support. There were signs I showed to people in my life that I wanted help, I needed it without actually coming out and saying it or asking for it, but they walked away. I never wanted to actually have to say I had a problem, please help me. For one reason or another, maybe they were fed up, maybe they just didn’t quite understand how to deal with it or maybe they didn’t know the signs. There are so many wrongs and rights to dealing with someone who uses. My best advice is to seek professional help, not just for them but you too so you can get a better understanding of what to do, or say and understand why it’s not so easy for some addicts just to quit or admit they have a problem. Talk to a professional on how you can help someone you love that is addicted to drugs. If you see any positive changes in someone’s life be the first to recognize them and praise them and never stop showing unconditional love to that person. Why is it called "unconditional love"? Think about it............... With recovered addicts you must try and trust them unless they give you reason not to.....that’s also part of unconditional love and showing positive support. Well, I finally put it all out here...I’ve shared my story MYSELF. I hope that someone can learn from me. I have lost friendships to Meth, I’ve seen friends get sick, go into withdrawals, hallucinate, become paranoid, spend their last $5.00 to get high, lie, cheat, steal and I have even encountered a friend of mine who died.....from Meth. This is why I wrote this blog." Just knowing I may have helped just one person by sharing my story makes all the difference in the world. I LOVE YOU ALL |
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