Addiction Stole my Soul

Part one of my Story

The guilt and shame of my addiction no longer rule my life like they once did. If you don’t know what that feels like, I hope you never do.

My Life Before Addiction

My parents are successful and excellent role models. I grew up in a beautiful home. I remember hearing about addiction from the world, but that did not concern me because I was smarter than that; furthermore, I would never be a drug user because I didn’t hang around “those kinds” of people anyway.

I was too busy learning ballet and tap and dancing in recitals. My parents are loving. My grandparents adored me, and at five years old, an older family member decided he adored me too, which was okay. Because I loved and looked up to him. We always played house, so when he was visiting for the summer and wanted to play, I was excited, but there was a twist this time.

I remember having fun until it wasn’t. I’m not sure I knew it was wrong, but inside my soul, it felt wrong. I quickly sought a way out of the situation, running to my mom so I could tell her. I found her chatting with the rest of the family about my upcoming pageant. She was excited, and when her eyes turned my way, they were glowing. I didn’t tell her because I was afraid she would never love me again, and I didn’t know what had just happened.

From that point forward, I felt I no longer fit in anywhere I went. It would be years before I told anyone.

I learned what a virgin was in the girl’s bathroom in 7th grade. Fighting back the tears the rest of the day, I ran into my house crying uncontrollably and jumped into my stepdad’s arms; he was my best friend. Through my tears, I finally managed to tell him why I was crying.

Tragedy Strikes

My stepdad was the principal of a local school, and we went everywhere together. Three days after my 13th birthday, my siblings and I were waiting on him to come to take us swimming when someone knocked on the door.

Our neighbor informed us there had been an accident at the school, but no one was harmed. She explained to Ms. Bonnie, our nanny, to gather us all some clothes. My uncle was coming to take us to my great-grandmother’s house and would take Bonnie home.

Jimmy Young is the lone survivor of a terrible accident at Pisgah High School. The headlines read that Wayne Pendley, principal, custodian Alex Jeffrey, and a student worker, Tim Brown, were killed in an explosion at the school on June 15th, 1982. Our world was shattered by an unexpected tragedy, forever changing life as I knew it.

I did not know about heartbreak until the explosion. My heart was broken, and I was angry. I didn’t like myself, and I didn’t like you. I began to question God, and I was clueless about how to move forward.

We should teach things like mental health in our schools. I remember having panic attacks and gasping for air. Depression was my new norm. Depression, loneliness, isolation, anxiety, and panic but “the feelings” didn’t have a name then. I just assumed the feelings were normal and everyone felt these same things.

We moved to Atlanta not long after, I tried to be a typical teenager, but I was in a never-ending cycle of behavior I had no control over. I began having issues in school, and I ran away numerous times, and no one could figure out what was wrong with me. They just assumed that I was a problem child. I wanted to scream, “no, you prick. I just don’t know how to cope with the unmanageability of my insides.”

The Drugs Used Me

I did not use drugs for the first time until I was 18. I smoked weed with my friends and finally found my place in life. I fit in, and I felt better. Then came 21, and we all began to hit the clubs. The drugs became more brutal, and the partying became wilder.

I was 28 years old, a nurse, and a mom to a beautiful 2 yr old little boy whom I adored when I found my drug of choice. I divorced my husband over this same drug, but it didn’t affect me as it did him. Justification at its finest.

Ten years later, I remember sitting in the bedroom alone. My three kids were with my grandmother, and I was homeless and unemployed. I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror, much less be the parent my children deserved to have.

I couldn’t even commit suicide, right? Crying as I looked down at the holes in my arms, I disgusted myself. I was using it in ways I said I never would. I had just removed myself from my second abusive relationship. The living dead girl is what I like to call that version of myself. I was pretty sure God hated me, but I prayed anyway.

“God, why do you hate me so badly? What did I do? Is it all the times I promised you I wouldn’t use it again, only to use it again? I don’t know how to stop! Why will you not help me? If you just help me stop using this way, God, I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to be a parent! I CAN NOT STOP THIS, GOD. I NEED YOUR HELP!”

After begging and pleading with him, I continued my futile attempts to inject the needle into my now veinless arms.

Help arrived in the form of the Jackson County Police Department, and I have never been so relieved in my life. I was going to jail again and happy about it because it was the only time I didn’t use it. The day the judge released me, I begged him to let me stay, and I told him I could not stay clean. His voice boomed as he looked at me sternly and said, “you can and you will.”

I tried, and I could not.

I asked to be placed in drug court and began meeting with that same judge every Friday along with the other members. He told us to get a sponsor, and I did, and we had to attend meetings to have a card signed along with outpatient classes.

I didn’t know it then, but this set into motion a transformation of self and a life worth living.

A new journey began — learning how to live.

Conclusion

Addiction doesn’t discriminate. I was an intelligent human with a great family and a bright future.

What I didn’t have was coping skills. My coping skills were drugs, leading me through some of the darkest days of my life.

Don’t get me wrong, they were fun initially, but eventually, the drugs turned on me. I became someone I could not stand to even look at in the mirror.

But had it not been for drugs, I would not be the person I am today.

My world was about to change drastically.

I can’t wait to share my recovery with you because my issue wasn’t the drugs. Yes, drugs are wrong, but the problem was me.

Thankfully, I was about to find the solution.