- Alcohol
- Drugs
Hi! My name is Allie, and I’m a recovering drug addict. My drugs of choice were OxyContin, crack, Xanax and weed. Or whatever you had. I am the spawn of two alcoholics/drug addicts. My mom was hooked on alcohol and prescription pills. My dad used alcohol and crack.
I was born in New Jersey and moved between there, New York and Florida about 20 times before the age of 10. My parents were divorced, and I lived with my mom. When I was seven, I came home from a trip to Disney with a friend of my mom’s. When I got home, my house was empty. I remember looking through the house for my mom, and all I saw were empty beer bottles. My mom’s friend had no idea what was going on, but I knew my mom was gone and wasn’t coming back. My dad was sober at the time, and I got on a plane to New York and moved in with him. My dad stayed sober for five years before he relapsed.
When I was 10, I smoked pot for the first time. I didn’t do it again until I was 12, but by the time I was 13, I was partying, smoking weed and doing coke and some pills. The first time I drank alcohol I drank to get drunk. I remember drinking a bottle of vodka and being disappointed that I was walking straight. By the end of the night, I bought drugs to get on the level I wanted to be on.
I was put in foster care for a year and was already seeing the consequences of my drug use, as I was getting kicked out of foster homes. My dad was supposed to stop drinking so I could return home, but on my first day home, my dad was drinking. I know my dad loves me very much, but once he starts drinking, he cannot stop, just like me.
Before I knew it, we were moving to Florida where, “all our problems would be solved.” I was livid. I had built a “family” in New York of kids who were just like me, and they were all I had. I felt alone in Florida, until my uncle gave me some weed and I found a “connection.” When I got high, all my problems went away. I wasn’t sad or mad. I didn’t feel alone. I wasn’t scared. I felt free. Drugs worked for me until they didn’t. They were my solution until they were the cause of all my problems.
After I moved to Florida, my drug use took off. I was failing school with 0.04 GPA. I was high from the moment I woke up until I went to bed. All my friends were high school dropouts and drug dealers. I overdosed at one point and decided to slow down. I had taken 14 very strong muscle relaxers, did not know where I was and went into convulsions. After that I decided to just smoke weed. That lasted for four days.
I started using OxyContin. I had been selling Ecstasy for about a year when someone approached me to “sponsor” them. This had a whole different meaning than the recovery concept. It meant I would pay for his doctor visits, and he would give me the pills for a very low price. I jumped on it. We started going to 12 doctors a month. It was like a full-time job. I moved out of my dad’s house and in with a guy I was dating. He was also a drug addict. Life quickly got out of control. I was barely sleeping. I was barely eating. I was just getting high. It’s hard to be a good drug dealer when you’re your best customer. I was sleeping on the couch, and I could not get up in the morning without getting high first. I was sweating, in pain and with a runny nose and tearing eyes if I went more than a few hours without getting high. My diet consisted of iced tea and beef jerky. I had lost everyone in my family and most of my friends. Once when I was was walking down the street, my aunt and cousins drove by. My little cousin said, “Look Mom! That’s Allie!” and my aunt Lucy said, “No, it isn’t,” and sped past.
I decided I had had enough. I had not payed rent or the electric bill, and I owed the guy that lived with me about $1000. I had to make a run for it. I packed some garbage bags full of my clothes to bring back to my dad’s. The day before I moved home, I went met up with some kids who I had been selling to. I jumped into their car to do the deal, and before I knew what was happening, cops in ski masks were swarming the car with guns aimed at me. They ripped me out of the car, threw me on the ground and arrested me. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I barely even spoke. All I kept thinking was, “You never should have told them about the Xanax in your bra.” That was all I cared about. I was 17 years old and facing 4 counts of drug traffic and 120 years in prison, and all I could think about was getting high.
While I was in jail, I made a promise to myself to stay clean if I ever got home. I was released on a $60,000 bond and placed under house arrest. I was kicked out of the public school system, wasn’t allowed to work and was going to be randomly drug tested. My first day home, I got high. I stayed away from OxyContin for a week. I also started drinking because of the drug tests. Every morning I’d wake up and start drinking.
My dad was disgusted with me. My family was gone. I started having people pawn my dad’s stuff, I was stealing money from my cousin’s trust fund and I was robbing cars in my neighborhood. I had no idea that on that first day I got high, I set off a mental obsession and physical craving for drugs and alcohol that I couldn’t control. My drug use became worse than it was before I had gone to jail. While I was under house arrest, I was in court once a month trying to reduce my sentence. My plea deal involved either six years of probation or three years in prison. I wanted the three years. When I had been in jail, I learned how to laugh again. I started reading and learning. I felt I couldn’t do that on the outside. My judge shot down the three-year plea deal saying, “I am not going to ruin this young girl’s life.” I got sentenced to six years of probation and had to go to a state-run treatment facility.
The day I walked out of the court house “free” on probation, I thought, “I’ll never get through six years without getting high.” I was right and wrong at the same time. The day I got off house arrest, my dad gave me $100 and kicked me out of the house. The $100 was gone in an hour, and I found my new home at the neighborhood pool. I did some couch surfing but was burning bridges quickly. I was caught in a cycle I couldn’t get out of. I would be ready to stop, I’d go home and I’d get a call from a friend. I’d be right back out the door. I couldn’t stop!
I should have been thrown back in jail about 100 times by the time I finally got into treatment. I had my higher power carrying me. I had my moment of clarity while at my assessment. I had brought fake pee with me and instead of going into the pee cup, it had gone all over my pants. I was sitting there with my pants drenched in someone else’s pee, weighing only 90 pounds, homeless and high as a kite while being asked about my addiction. I finally said, “Listen, I need inpatient treatment. I can’t stop getting high.” I was put on a waiting list.
When they finally had a bed open, I was almost ready. I acted out almost every day and was almost kicked out multiple times because of my poor behavior and attitude, but at some point I changed. I started to listen and do the work. I was in inpatient treatment for three months and halfway house for four months. When I got out, I had nowhere to go. I ended up staying on a couch at a sober friend’s house and paying her $100 a week. I got a job as a waitress (which I was really bad at) and started building my life and recovery.
I had a sponsor who had relapsed, and when I had nine months sober, so did I. I went out one night with a friend from rehab and ended up drinking a lot. I woke up the next day ashamed and scared. I immediately got a new sponsor. I picked up a white chip and started working my steps. I got a home group, and I started doing service. That was December 15, 2008. I do each and every one of these things today. It’s been a long road, because not only was I learning to be sober, I was learning how to live, be an adult, pay bills, get apartments and be responsible.
I’ve been learning about the world. I’ve made many mistakes along the way. Someone told me you’re allowed to do whatever you want to do in your recovery as long as you’re willing to accept the consequences. I’ve finally won the trust of most of my family. My dad and I have a great relationship. I even talk to my mom. I’ve been able to help many people get and stay sober by being a good friend, by giving rides to meetings and by showing up. I’ve made amazing friends and have had more fun than I ever did getting high. I laugh every single day. I find a reason to be thankful every single day. I’ve seen many people die since I’ve gotten sober. I’ve seen many people lose their lives in prison and a lot of families suffer sleepless nights wondering where their loved ones are and if they are okay. I’m glad I’m not putting my family through that anymore. It’s been almost six years since I went to treatment, and life has changed so much. I went from being a thief, liar, criminal and crack-smoking pill head to a loving, passionate, happy and successful person who gives back to the community.
I have nice things which I cherish without wondering how much I can get for them at the pawn shop. I own my own company. I wake up in a king-size bed looking at the ocean instead of on a lounge chair at the community pool. How lucky am I? I hope this can inspire someone and help them. I hope someone can relate to me and know they are not alone. I hope that people realize it doesn’t matter who you are, what you did, what you look like or what your education level is. You can recover. There are people willing to help you without asking for anything in return.