- Drugs
My children ultimately brought me to recovery. I started using and drinking when I was 15, and it had progressively gotten worse in the following 25 years. I had a life, a wonderful husband and beautiful children, but, when I turned 40, it began to unravel.
I was in a car accident and was prescribed painkillers. I had always used marijuana, alcohol and cocaine, but somehow I could keep it together. My doctor said opiates weren’t addictive and that I could take as many as I wanted, but this came with a personality change. I went from working like Super Woman to being angry and intolerant. My addiction told me that I needed to divorce my wonderful husband and leave my children. I was graciously going to let him have the children, although this was really because I wasn’t fit to keep them and wanted to have my own place where I could use all I wanted. Shortly thereafter I discovered crack cocaine, and that’s when I lost everything. I was an unfit mother, and I spent all my money. I was demoralized, and it’s hard to even imagine that’s the person I was.
When I lost custody of my children on October 2, 2006, I had no solution. I didn’t understand, and I got back in the car and continued to smoke crack. I still had money, so I was using a lot, and I just buried my feelings in that. In the back of my mind I told myself I can do this for a while, but I can’t do it forever. I knew my children were too important to grow up thinking that they weren’t worth it.
I was living in an apartment with this guy who used and drank, when I heard that my son had been at the therapist. He was now nine or ten, and I had been there in his life and was gone, so my son asked the therapist, “Why is my mom not back yet? Oh yeah, it’s because she loves drugs more than me.” One would think hearing that would send me right to treatment, but it didn’t.
I tried treatment a couple of times. I went to an 18-day program, and I went to behavior modification therapy, but I just wasn’t “there.” I needed to find my bottom or exhaust all my resources. I needed to understand where addiction could take me, and I found out, when I ran out of money and resources and became a miserable human being who just wanted to be alone. Anger and disgust are what got me to get help. I was staying with my mom, and she wanted to die, because of the way I was living my life. My father’s wife passed away, and, while she was dying of lung cancer, I only called her once to check on her. When I found out she died, I didn’t call my dad for two weeks. This is the point addiction takes you to. When I called him and told him I was so sorry I didn’t call, he said, “That’s okay honey, I know you have a lot going on.” That’s how gracious he was. He didn’t even know how sick I was. He said, “Come stay in my guest home and get away and get some help,” and I did that. I wound up staying with him for two weeks before going to a wonderful treatment center. I was ready. I stayed there for 60 days.
When we walked in, my father saw a group of girls from the prison who were tattooed and pierced and tough, and he said, “Sweetheart, I just don’t think this is the place for you.” I said, “Oh yes it is, you have no idea.” I knew those girls and I were the same. It’s not about the coat of paint. At that point I looked healthy and was well-dressed with cute suitcases, but it didn’t matter, because this was where God brought me. I was staying no matter what. Thank God for that place. I loved it, and since then I found support groups and dove into recovery.
There was a point where I begged to die, but I knew I couldn’t commit suicide. I couldn’t do that to my children or my mother. During the darkest days of my addiction I just did not understand how I got there from where I was, but I also didn’t understand that life could be what it is today. I celebrated my fifth year of sobriety on July 16th, and my children talk to me. I got to take them on our first vacation alone together about six weeks ago. I wasn’t allowed to contact them, until I was 17 months sober. These children grew up without a mom for over three years. They live with their dad who is magnificent, but now they know I’m sober and I’m here. We have our ups and down and struggles, but it’s all part of the process. My son called me and said, “I’m so angry with you. I’ve never gotten over the anger, and I’ll never love you as a mother,” but then he texted me and said, “You know when I said never, I didn’t mean never ever.” I was so grateful that he vented to me and thanked him for calling and being honest. When struggling with my children I remember to be patient and be available. It’s not about me; it’s about them.
Now I’m in the best relationship I’ve ever been in, because I’ve done the work to change my behaviors. This takes time, and just between four and a half and five years I’ve made some changes. When I was about three years sober, I was going through relationship struggles and a friend said, “Let me get this straight. You’ve be sober for three years, and you think you can do a healthy relationship, but have you ever seen what one looks like? Take it easy on yourself!” I learned to trust and reach out. When I first got into recovery, I had two groups and I went to three or four meetings a day. I cried and I screamed, and I believe in getting the bad stuff out to make room for the good. I’m a firm believer in sharing how you feel.