AMERICA'S DEEP, DARK SECRET COMES HOME

            Addiction is a loaded word. Methamphetamine addiction cuts even sharper into the psyche of society as a whole. This subject, while still strongly viewed as taboo, affects more American families than cancer and other illnesses combined. Many still feel that they have to handle this problem alone, in shame, and behind closed doors. However I am here to tell those of you still suffering, that I was there too; and most of all, that you do not have to suffer alone and we CAN recover.

            I am the addict in my family system. What that means to me is far different than the affects this disease has had on my family. My first “addiction”, if you will, was attention and what I can look back and now confidently say was growing mental illness. Growing up, some of my first memories are that of my past filled with abandonment and unresolved rage. My mother and my father did they best that they possibly could to keep my brother and I sheltered from their problems, but on this occasion, it was unavoidable. My father had been having an affair and some legal troubles and left us for a while. I could not fully comprehend why this happened or what was happening, all I felt was incomplete. This was the first time that I cut my wrists, at 10 years old. Ah, relief, I said to myself and could feel into the deepest pit of my stomach and coursing through my bones. This was the first time I learned that I could do something, to not feel the emptiness I felt inside.

            From that point on, I began experimenting with drugs. Marijuana mainly, at first. That didn’t do it. Then alcohol, and for several years I had found that deep sigh of relief again. That settling in my soul when I did not have to feel like myself, even if only for a few hours. Right then I knew my relationship to substances was different than my peers, but I did not even fathom the consequences and life changing behaviors that would follow this first drink. From that moment on, I opened doors for myself that I was unable to close for nearly 15 years. And from that moment on, began my family’s pain.

            “You just inhale it,” said an eighth grade friend to me, in the garage of some random guy’s house. And it was that simple. I did not ask questions, I did not think about the consequences, and I certainly did not think that this would be the last time I had control over my life. I was 12 years old the first time I smoked Methamphetamine. And the first time I finally felt alive; like a person I could like.

            I continued to use all throughout high school. I would not eat. I would stay awake for days and days at a time, and yet, I still managed to pass all of my classes with exceptional grades and other academic and athletic achievements. To my peers and superiors, I looked like a girl who had it together, but inside I was being tormented by this dark secret.

            I have been arrested, I have attempted suicide and been 51/50’d, I have lost friends, ruined the trust of my family, and destroyed numerous relationships. That has never been enough of a reason for me to stop using. I would relay empty promises to my parents time and time again. “I promise this is the last time, I swear”. And I wish I could tell you that I meant it and it stopped there. This is why you hear things like “Addiction is a disease”. There is absolutely no rational thought or reasoning to this addiction, making it one of the most mind blowing and insidious illnesses to wreak havoc on American culture.

            The year is 2016. I have met someone and became pregnant with my now, two-year-old son. What began as an intimate, exciting relationship had turned sour and painful. There was extensive verbal abuse, only imprinting into my brain farther that I was alone, that I was destined to be miserable for the rest of my life, and most of all, that I was hopeless and worthless. After being stuck in this state of mind for 8 months, I finally hit my breaking point. And as an addict, the only person I considered was myself. I knew there was one thing on the planet that could take me away; take me from feeling alone and miserable. Drugs.

            I sat on the floor in the bathroom of my house at the time, staring at a loaded needle… then back at my pregnant stomach… and back again. I sat on the floor crying, for what felt like an eternity.  All I could feel in that moment was pain, mental and emotional, and it seemed to be getting louder and louder. And all I wanted was for it to stop, for it to be quiet, for me to not feel. In it goes.

            This was where my life finally became so painful, that I made the decision to take action, and heal. While in the hospital, after my son was born, I was served a warrant by Child Protective Services stating that they would be taking custody of my child and that I would not be able to go home with my newborn baby. These words shattered whatever amount of soul I had left. I was left with two choices, be this “junkie” that everyone thinks you are or get help and heal from your pain and be a mother. At this point, I looked around at my family, whom I had been putting through hell the last 15 years, and now at what was supposed to be my new family and the devastation on their faces. All caused by my actions and addiction to drugs. I had now not only put myself into danger, but the life of my child, his father, and his parents. I did this, me.

            The next few days were a blur, my mind felt like mush, but my feet did something for me. I had taken myself to a meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous. In that room, filled with strangers, I felt the same settling in my soul that I had felt when I had previously found drugs. I felt a part of, I felt connected, and I felt at peace. What I have found in these rooms is everything I had been looking for my entire life. I have found friendship, support, integrity, morals and values, and most of all, I have found who I was destined to be. I learned how to be a mother through this program, how to be a friend, how to be an employee, and how to be me.

            Today, Addiction is still a loaded word. But it is not loaded with pain, suffering, torment, and guilt. No. Today it is a reminder that my suffering was all for something; that I have hope, love, and compassion today. I have been given the gift of freedom from the bondage of self and opened up to endless amounts of love and support. I am living proof that recovery is possible. I am living proof that “addicts” are so much more than that. Today I am proud to say that I am a woman in long-term recovery, and for me that means I have not used alcohol or other drugs in two and a half years. Today I get to be a mother, friend, girlfriend, and peer. Today I am part of a family. Together, we can change lives. Most of all, together we can heal society from America’s dark secret. If you are reading this, know that there are thousands who are like you, like me, and that we are all capable and deserving of hope.