My Meth Addiction Held Me Hostage

I had always been against any kind of drug, before I moved away from home after my parents split up. Even when I was in our new home, I was still against it. I started going to school and every friend I made smoked weed. I remember kicking them out of my house if they came over with it. People even called me a bitch because I would yell at everyone that came to my house with drugs. Nobody liked me because I didn't smoke weed with them, so needless to say, to gain friendships, I took my first hit of marijuana with the only friend that liked me for me, and yes, he even smoked weed. After that my sister and I became known very well, and we hosted parties every weekend. The street was half filled with everybody's cars who came to my house to party. Then, one of those weekends, I noticed my boyfriend and a few of his friends were in my bathroom and wouldn't let me in it. When I finally convinced him to let me in my own bathroom, I was appalled to see that someone was holding a piece of foil, folded, with a straw in their mouth. Yes I totally lost my mind! I was really mad that they were doing this in my bathroom. My boyfriend quickly closed the door behind me as I entered my own bathroom. I asked them what they were doing, and everybody laughed at me because I didn't know what it was they were doing. I sat down on the edge of my bathtub, as I watched to see what they did with the straw and the piece of foil. As curious as I was, after I saw what they did, of course I asked to hit it. A few minutes later I felt wide awake, like I could do anything I wanted to do. It was a good feeling for me, at least I thought it was.

I didn't really think too much about it the following days and weeks. I just stuck to my weed. Eventually the weekend parties turned into school nights, and eventually, school days. I skipped so much school that going to school, was just out of the question. I ended up going to an alternative school, all the while being a few months pregnant. I had my daughter before I graduated high school. About 3 or 4 months after I had her, that's when I learned about this new form of speed, called "ice". It's a clear form of speed, not like the old "bathtub" speed. It was MUCH more addicting than the regular old speed. I started doing ice more and more regularly, became more and more addicted to it. CPS took my daughter away due to suspicion of me using meth, and I became more dependent upon my addiction because not having my daughter made me depressed. So I turned to my dope for affection, and believe it or not, it actually helped me to forget all about needing to do things right to get my daughter back. The police caught me with ice in 2004. I did not, however, get arrested. I made a deal with the police to help catch everybody that had drugs. Basically, they asked me to "work" with them. I said yes, and did not get arrested. Following that day I started to call a specific officer and try to make amends with my wrong doings, until I found out that I had to be a "sworn snitch", meaning I had to sign papers saying that I was the one to snitch on someone. That's when I high-tailed it out of the city of which I lived, and moved myself and my belongings to a different city. A year later, I was put on probation for a possession of a controlled substance under a gram. But still, the dope didn't let up, or should I say, I didn't let up on it? I changed cars often, I didn't have a specific place to live, I lost all my clothes, things got stolen from me, money got stolen from me, people betrayed me, took advantage of me, I stole things, I lied to people, I betrayed my family. Then, the only family I had was meth. I didn't do what I was supposed to do while on probation. I didn't report, I didn't pay. Eventually, little did I know that it would catch up to me. I was sentenced to the County Jail for 30 days for not reporting, and off I went.

Jail was nothing but sleeping, eating, and watching T.V., and of course, church. There were a lot of people that I knew that ended up in jail with me. Almost everyone that wanted to change shared their feelings with each other. There were people in there that didn't deserve to be there, but they were there because they simply were in the wrong place at the wrong time. I learned a lot in jail, but only because I wanted to. My 30 days were finally up. My mom came to get me from jail, and with her was my daughter. My grandmother also came to get me, I guess everyone was ready for me to be out of there. We celebrated that day by going out to lunch. I was glad to see my family, and especially my daughter. Ever since I got out of the county jail, my way of thinking has changed. I got off dope, got my daughter back, and got my own place far away from the city of which the devil lives. I've been through outpatient treatment programs, went to a Drug Offender Education Program, I've finished my community service, and have been reporting for my probation, which in fact ends this year!

So to all recovering meth addicts and their families, know that all it takes is a little love, whether the addict thinks you love them or not, be there for them. Addiction is not something one can control, it's a disease. To think you need something so bad that nothing else matters, is a disease. Meth hurts everyone involved with the addict, not just the addict. Back then, I didn't know that. I needed help then, when I was addicted, not now, when I'm not. But I didn't listen to anybody, the meth wouldn't let me. It was like it was keeping me hostage against my family and all the things that were important to them. Nobody could have me but the meth, he wasn't sharing me with anyone. I won that battle!