- Drugs
It was 2012 and I was a 25 year-old single mom of two little girls ages three and one. My life seemed to be finally falling into place. I knew I had a lot on my plate, and obtaining legal custody of my 1 year-old niece didn’t lighten the load at all. I remember talking to my mom after I tucked my girls in and telling her that for the first time in my life I was happy. My girls were happy and healthy. Even though I was single, that was just fine with me.
The day before my daughter’s 3rd birthday in September my mom called me and asked if I had talked to my dad. She said I might want to call him. He didn’t sound good and was at the ER waiting room. I hung up on her and called my dad. My best friend in life. My everything. He was losing functions like being able to will his body to get up and walk, his peripheral vision, and started to hallucinate. After a long night, three doctors walked in and dropped the biggest bomb of our lives. On my daughters 3rd birthday we were told that my dad had stage 4 lung cancer that had spread to his brain. Instead of the birthday party we were talking about days before I was losing the man of my life at 47 years old. They gave him 3-6 months to live with radiation to help with the side effects.
I couldn’t go back to work because if my dad needed me I had to go. I was his only caregiver. Radiation every day, 3 little girls, my car decided to break down through all this, doctor appointments, and shots for the girls. I didn’t want to leave my dad. Not enough hours in my day. I was sinking.
My aunt, my mom’s sister, came up from Houston to Indiana. She took me to the store and spent $85 dollars on things I needed for my house. My jaw dropped. 85 dollars was so much money! I knew she worked as an escort in Houston, but I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. She brought with her some ‘ice’ and her pipe. Somehow she managed to get it on the plane with her when she came to visit. I smoked and I felt like I was on top of the world. I had more time in my day, I wasn’t hungry either. I had always been a bigger girl. I never wore anything under a size 12. I felt upbeat and positive. She told me she’d fly me to Houston so I could make some money. She went a little further in detail about escorting and how easy it was. Even showed me the ‘back page’ where she posted her ads. I was skeptical. I wondered if I could do it and who would even want my services if I even got the nerve to do so. What was my worth? I never had much self-esteem. I toyed with idea of going for a week or so after she left. Talked myself into it and talked myself out of it. I finally called her up and asked how much money I could make in a week there. She said, “Enough.”
I went to Houston at the end of November 2014 for the first time. When I got there my aunt was kind enough to have my own little bag of ‘ice’ and a brand new pipe under my pillow. Her boyfriend didn’t know she did anything like that, and thought she quit escorting for him. Well I was her excuse to get out and ‘work’ and her excuse to shoot-up in peace without being bothered. I just smoked it. I was scared to death of needles. But, after a week of my 10 day visit watching her numerous times a day hit herself and watch her enjoy the rush, I finally let her make me one.
I couldn’t watch, and she watched me like she was jealous of me, because you only get that feeling once. You never find that exact high ever again. But I wasn’t sure I liked it. It scared me. It took my breath. I was literally panting. I got really hot and my heart was racing. And all I could do was try to catch my breath and keep from spinning out. She never told me what to expect when she hit me! I don’t recall through the 7 days of watching her hit herself that she ever reacted like that! Later I learned that her first few times where like that too. Her only words to me while I thought I was having a bad reaction to this stuff were to point out how lucky I was. I kept staring at my arm like it was detached. I couldn’t believe I did that.
I’d sit in the car with her while she ran in to various hotels (predominantly the hourly hotels) to ‘take care’ of someone. It never took long. She was handing me $60-$100 at a time just to wait, telling me I needed to get my ad up.
I finally got my ad up and I couldn’t believe all the calls I got. People interested in time with me? I had lost a lot of weight between the stress with my dad and now the dope. I felt beautiful. After I saw my first person it became easy. The dope helped. I came back to Indiana with $600 I made in one night. Then I was angry at myself for not working the entire time I was in Houston, kicking myself for being a sissy. Now I’m back in Indiana with no dope and $600 that doesn’t last. But it felt so good to buy my girls things and have money, to be able to buy my dad things, to not need things so badly. I had to get back to Houston!
My aunt called me and it just so happened she was going on a cruise and wanted me to house sit after Christmas. I had only been home long enough to set up my Christmas tree and have my last Christmas with my father. I was back in Houston. December 28th, 2012. I got on the plane and never came back home.
I was only supposed to be back in Houston for 10 more days while my aunt was away on her cruise. When I packed this time, I packed very little for all the things I would buy while I was there to bring home. One thing I will never forget was dropping Rane, 3, my baby girl Sky, just started walking and turned 1, and my niece Lily, also 1, off at my mom’s. My mom, who’s been with the same woman for 14 years now, and her wife were keeping the girls for me. I’ll never forget that ache I felt, uncontrollably crying. I kept thinking, “What is wrong with me! I’m only leaving for 10 days.” I never even stopped to hug and tell my dad bye.
After knowing what it felt like to be in Houston the first time and what it was like to be back home after, finally making it back to Houston was a relief. When I walked in to my aunt’s house she was running around trying to get packed for her cruise and get me set up. That took all night. But I was happy to be back and to sit there with another brand new pipe and smoke myself stupid. Finally! She didn’t have time to actually hit me with one before she left, but she left me a few points anyway. Yeah, right. Like I knew how to do that or would ever have the guts to come close to doing that. She also set me up with her ‘guy’ before she left so I could get some. She left me her iPad, cell phone, ‘work’ phone, and full reign of her very nice home and her car. I was also dog sitting while house sitting. She got my account set up to post my ad and I was all set…writing this all seems so unreal.
I began taking ‘clients’ again. That is where my first scar came from, this one on my chest. I was laying there hitting the bowl and went to pass it a ‘client’s’ very high and shaky fingers for him to hit (I even had to light it for him). But the bowl slipped from his fingers and landed on my chest. The soft skin from my chest immediately melting to the hot glass bowl is a sight I will never forget. I was so high that it didn’t really hurt, but my body getting waves of goose bumps and a scar to forever remind me of that man, that moment, and who I’ve been.
I look back now and I’m stunned at my idiocy. I never dreamed writing it out would feel this way. I really was not that girl. I had morals, values, kids, and a family. The city that I grew up in respected me. I was a home health aide, a good mother, a loyal friend, an amazing daughter…then in moments I was Jordyn. And remained Jordyn for the entire time I was in Houston. I have no secrets anymore.
My aunt also called the day she left for her cruise to see if I’d give her friend a ride to Home Depot. The friend she asked if I would give a ride to… Is my son’s father and the one I’m unbelievably still with. He was a banger as well with the ‘expertise’ to be able to hit others. My aunt would make me tiny shots, but he loved watching me do bigger ones.
I’m going to skip the many events between Jan. 2013 and October 2013. And highlight only two major events. In May I scratched off a $5 lottery ticket and won $100,000 dollars. In August my father died. I still never came back home. The night he died I had posted my ad a half-hour before my mom called to tell me. I think I knew already, because I got this strange, off center excitement. Like I was feigning being happy. Like if I just went about my night in a good mood. I ignored all bad feelings. He wouldn’t be dead. I could go back and fix the fact I left. I could hug him. I ignored my phone. She called his phone. I heard her tell him my dad had passed. I grabbed my work bag and locked myself in my car with my pipe.
I kind of went off the blurry deep end. I was hitting pretty hard. Then one day, the girl that hit me missed a shot in my arm. I just remember not feeling anything, not even the burning when you’re missing. My arm kind of ached, but I was angry because I wasn’t high. I knocked out at some hotel room that was purchased with a stolen credit card. Someone my ‘friend’ knew that had access to it.
I don’t know how I managed to pack all of my things up and get them to my car. I was sick, so thirsty, and running a fever. I was kind of out of it. I called my mom. I told her I loved her and I didn’t think I could make the drive home. I felt like I was going to pass out and I couldn’t move my right arm. It was so painful, so swollen, so fire red. I had odd red lines going up under my right arm into my armpit, where my veins looked like they would be under the soft part near my armpit. The red lines were wicked. I was sick and wanted to die. I wanted my daddy. He was gone now. I screwed it up with no going back. I had the money to do it and didn’t!
That exact mishap was in September I believe. After the gloriously high month of October, my birthday month, I was a sickly skinny size 5. My arms were terrible. I went and stayed the night with my aunt. I just felt sick. I was tired. I thought I was dope sick. I did feel better after she hit me. I went to ‘work’ and stopped by my favorite restaurant to call him. I was so tired and didn’t really know why. He said, “I think you’re pregnant.” Oh, I got so mad! A few days later I found out I was.
When I found out I was pregnant. I was so angry. This was insane! My body was so dehydrated and I had been so terribly unhealthy it wasn’t even a thought that I would become pregnant. The month before I found out I was pregnant I stayed too high to work. I’d sit at the gas station for 8 hours at a time in my car. I actually recall a few times when gas station attendants would knock on my window and ask if I was okay. Of course I was. I was just mentally stuck and too high to think. I lost track of time.
But I had only been with two people around the time I got pregnant. ‘He’ is now 49 years old, born the same year my father was. I’m 28 now. I just never thought it would really be him that would be my son’s dad. I thought it was the other guy. The other guy was younger and had small children. Up until the time I had my son I believed ‘he’ wasn’t the father, but taking one look at my obviously Hispanic son there was no question. I was surprised. He was so mean to me about it, like it was something I did on purpose to hurt him. But, he took care of me. Ha! That’s funny; his words cut but his actions where nurturing. Welcome to meth.
I shot up one time after I found out I was pregnant. I allowed ‘him’ to talk me into it. He momentarily had me convinced smoking was worse than injecting it. Afterwards I felt so, so, guilty. I couldn’t even enjoy my high. Never again have I injected anything else in my body.
We lost the place where we lived. I got my car repossessed. Here I am pregnant and starting the new year of 2014 homeless, with ‘him’, pregnant, sleeping a lot of nights in a Tahoe and getting cleaned up in Walmart bathrooms. I’m starting to show and I have no prenatal care. I know in my heart it’s a boy. I liked to believe my daddy was watching over him. There was one horrible night, the worst, when I just wanted to get high. He was so angry at me and wanted to go to his mom’s in another city. His mom is very religious. He grew up a Witness. I wanted to go, it would be safer and she’d help us, but I needed to get high first.
He was trying to drop me off at a Wal-Mart donation bin. He unloaded the car of my things by the donation bin calling me pathetic. My mom in Indiana was panicking because I’m pregnant and who knows where. She already tried to come pick me up once. She used her tax money to rent a car and drive the 1,100 miles to come get me. I got as far as Jacksonville, TX, before I cussed her out and made her leave me there. She had custody of my two little girls long before this point. And her fear was I was going to have the baby with no prenatal care, that my drug abuse was going to handicap him, and the baby would be taken from me and be a ward of the state of Texas. She wouldn’t be able to get the baby due to state lines, laws, and lack of money. Over that year she buried her best friend, my dad, my brother lost it and got on crack and robbed 3 gas stations at gun point, and is now in prison, and her daughter was strung out, pregnant with her grandchild, and 1,100 miles away. A nightmare for any mother…
He ended up coming back to pick me up. I found a place to go for the night. A client of mine had lots of money and lots of dope. I felt safe for the time being. But that guy was so far out there. The next morning he said his girlfriend was coming over and I had to go.
So I’m over 6 months pregnant and dragging my suitcase down the road. He gave me some money but the condos he lived in where a mile and a half away from shopping and food. Not far, except when you’re pregnant and walking tired and hungry. Then it’s a long way away. I made it to a Chinese place and ate every single thing I ordered, and then I dozed off. A very good friend of mine who didn’t do drugs at all, who had tried to help me one other time in the past, was on his way to pick me up. I had to sit in his truck until he got off work. But that’s fine. I was safe and I slept.
He had talked to my mom and was going to try and get me home. After a few weeks ‘He’ called. He was coming back to Houston from his mom’s and wanted to see me. He picked me up and I never went back to my friend’s. ‘He’ and I ended up staying at his ex’s house, who was also an escort. It was okay for a while. I had limited my smoking. While I couldn’t feel anything emotionally, I physically felt the baby. And I had come down into myself enough to know that if I did not make the decision to quit doing meth I could possibly ruin a whole little life, as if I hadn’t done enough damage already. I sat alone in a bedroom by myself a lot. I was thinking, even though I couldn’t wrap my mind around going home. It seemed impossible. I felt the baby ‘drop’. The shift in my body that told me labor was around the corner. I texted my mom, “It’s time to come home.”
‘He’ found a way to rent a car for the long drive. It was too risky to fly. My mind started to panic. There was no dope where I was going. I ignored that voice as if someone was behind me literally shoving me past it. I got in the car ‘he’ packed up. He brought stuff with him. At the first stop we made to smoke I took one hit, handed him the pipe, and said, “I’m done. This is the end for me. You use the rest to get me home.” After that I got out of the car while he smoked. After it was gone ‘He’ threw the pipe in the trash.
I went to my grandma’s first. We made it to Indiana and I wanted a shower. My mom never told my girls I was coming. I had been gone almost a year and a half. It was May of 2014 when I walked in my mom’s back gate. There were my girls. Ranelyn, 4, looked at me like she was stunned. I was so very different the last time she had seen me, and I was very pregnant. Sky’lyn, who was now just over 2, backed away and hid behind my mom’s wife. Then I looked at my mom’s now 12 year old dog and I burst into tears. Levi, my mom’s dog, even looked old. My kids had grown so much. I saw time that had passed, time that I had missed.
Now was the time to make that first doctor’s appointment to see if my baby was in fact really okay. I had made it home. July 4th my son was born alert, healthy, and drug free after testing. I don’t really remember having my son. It’s all foggy, which I’m assuming is a part of coming down off meth. My mind was in a million little pieces at that time. I put the drugs down for good on May 25, 2014. On February 15th I have 8 months and three weeks of clean and sober time. I live with the father of my son, he is clean and sober for six months, working and providing for our little family. My daughters are now 5 and 3 and live with my mom, but I see them almost daily. The relationship to my mom is still problematic, but I understand that it takes time. I love to cook and write and understand today that I didn’t have to go through all this alone. I never went to any treatment or any meetings, I did it all myself and alone. At the beginning of December 2014 I went to my first meeting as I was encouraged through friends to try it and continue to go now.
I enjoy so much that I can feel again, that I can laugh and I can cry. I can manage time today. I am really excited to feel human again. Being an addict has helped to shape me into who I am today, but I am so grateful to be clean.