- Drugs
- Faith
Where was I when recovery found me? In a desert resort city populated with golfers, retirees and seasonal residents visiting for the country clubs, sun and palm trees. The place was classy and upscale for some, but I was homeless, strung out and walking palm tree-lined streets in 110 degree weather while selling my body for the next injection of meth and heroin.
Who was I when recovery found me? That’s easy: I wasn’t. From early childhood I based my identity on how I was different and what I wasn’t. I was raised in a community that was dominated by a religious sect that I didn’t belong to, and this emphasized how I was different.
During adolescence and teenage years, as most individuals evolve a sense of identity and self-actualization, my concept of self became increasingly elusive and murky. I seemed to have no ideas or personality traits that were genuine or my own. I observed the behavior of others and mimicked and repeated these in an attempt to be someone. I didn’t know how to be happy, confident or at peace, so I borrowed the gestures from others in an attempt to master these traits.
Experimenting and indulging in chemicals temporarily provided me with a sense of self or at the very least the identity of being a “stoner” or of belonging to a crowd. I quickly became a daily user and someone who used alone. Being intoxicated diluted my feelings of being less than and altered my consciousness enough that I didn’t care. My disease progressed, and I hid for years while using progressively harder drugs. Throughout my twenties my body matured, but the void in me deepened. I tried in vain to fill it. I used men and food. I smoked crack and shot and snorted cocaine. I took handfuls of pills and injected heroin and methamphetamine into my veins. These chemicals could not define or complete me. I existed in a nightmare reality of homelessness, hospitals and jails. I attempted suicide with serious intent several times. I was a barren shell of a woman. I was desolate and weak. My uncertainty and despair was topped with years of draping others’ roles and opinions on myself. I was spiritually bankrupt and absolutely hopeless.
At 31 years old recovery came along and gave me a replacement for that void: myself. Today I have a sense of who I am, what I like and what values are important to me. I have a higher power, friends and a love for the woman I’ve become. These are truly all the things I ever wanted. Recovery has filled that void and given me all I ever wanted or was looking for in drugs.