- Drugs
- Faith
I’m an addict whose problem’s name is Kim. I am my biggest problem. You don’t have to walk in my shoes, but please spend a few minutes in my head. Growing up I always wanted to be like someone else, I never wanted to be my own person. Most of all I wanted to be just like my big sister. Little did I know the pain this would lead to.
Since I’ve been in recovery, I’ve looked back to find addictive behaviors. God finally showed one of them to me. I had some plumbing problems and had to shower at my parents. Upon entering the bathroom I noticed a glass jar from my childhood that used to be filled with gelatin capsules to enhance nail growth. I had begged my mom to give me the entire jar so I could dispense them to myself. She finally gave in and gave me the entire jar. I remember taking three to four at a time, three times a day, thinking my nails would grow faster and longer. Even though there was not a “high,” I continued this behavior. If that isn’t addict mentality, I don’t know what is.
I am a mother of five and a mama of four. I have been married for 23 years but separated since 2009. My estranged husband is still out there using and drinking. I am okay with that, but on a daily basis I pray for him and all those still sick and suffering.
My husband and I met in a bar (imagine that), and his biker image made him even more attractive. Within two weeks of meeting him I moved him into my home. Within three years we were married in a motorcycle clubhouse (the look on my parents face was devastating), and our biker lifestyle was in full swing. Remember that sister I wanted to be like? Well, I had become her.
My sister served five years in prison for distribution of cocaine, and within one month of her getting released she was back to smoking crack. I remember begging and pleading for her to stop, while I would go into the bathroom to do a few lines. I thought that the way she was doing coke was much worse than the way I was. I swore I would never become a “crackhead.” You know that saying, “You become what you hang around?” It was exactly that. I had become those that I so critically judged. That crackhead I said I would never become? I became a hardcore, hope-to-die dope fiend. I did things I said I would never do. I gave the home where my five kids laid their heads and the car they rode in to the dope man. I stole, lied, cheated and manipulated. I even tried geographical relocation, but the problem was I took myself with me. Although drink made me stumble, cocaine took me to my knees. I lived on the street with my daughter in tow. I lived in a crack house with my daughter in tow. I did things I said I would never do, all with my daughter in tow.
In 2006 my husband and I were separated due to my love affair with cocaine. I was on the street again, running out of options, running out of resources and losing my hustle. I was sick and tired of being stuck on stupid and getting beat up by dummy, which was me. I really wanted to stop this insanity but didn’t know how.
At this point of my life my husband had joined a nationwide motorcycle organization and was living at their clubhouse. I really wanted to get off the street, I really did. But was I willing to give up everything? I ended up moving into the clubhouse with my husband and all the members of this organization. Within a short period of time I was labeled not just property of my husband but property of the entire organization. I had to take care of ALL of them. I had to do what I was told. I had to cook and clean for all of them. I did some things I didn’t want to do, and I saw some things I wished I had never seen. The positive aspect of all of this was I could no longer do hard drugs. Properties were not allowed to do hardcore drugs. This organization does not play around, and I didn’t want to “come up missing” with nobody knowing what had happened to me, so I did what I was told. I have heard of a lot of properties that have “come up missing.” I did stop smoking crack, but all I did was trade addictions.
In 2007 my husband and I decided to get breakfast on the bike before leaving on a national run with the club. All I remember was going down the street, blacking out, and waking up in the middle of the street unable to move. I could barely lift my head, and the pain was unbearable. Why couldn’t I move and why am I surrounded by people? What had just happened to us? My husband and I had been hit by a drunk driver and critically injured. We should have been dead but God was with us the entire time. I used to think God had abandoned me, when it was I who had abandoned God. We had no riding gear on, no helmets or protection, just God, but that was enough. Due to our injuries we ended up having to move out of the clubhouse, because we could not keep up with that lifestyle anymore. I have since forgiven that drunk driver and found some gratitude for the crash. I am grateful that it happened, as the organization has since gotten busted and sent to prison, even the properties. Had that not happened I could be in prison right now.
The accident led me back to my prescription drug addiction. I quickly spiraled out of control, and my husband left me again in 2009 due to my love affair with opiates. I was driving impaired just like the young lady that hit us. Thank God I didn’t kill somebody or even myself.
My addiction continued for two more years. I remember I used to sit and watch shows about addiction recovery with a joint in one hand and a bottle in the other, with tears streaming down my face because I didn’t know how to stop. I had no problem admitting and accepting I was an addict and my life was unmanageable. What I have since learned is that I had not totally surrendered yet. I needed some more pain before I was ready to surrender. My addiction was my master. My addiction controlled my life. I lived to get high and got high to live. I had met my match.
On April 24, 2011, I admitted complete defeat. I made a call to a treatment center, set up arrangements to be admitted, and surrendered to my disease. My sobriety date is April 25, 2011. Although I had a home at that time I moved into a halfway house for four months, because I didn’t trust me. I knew I didn’t want to get high anymore. I did everything that was suggested to me. I got a sponsor. I went to two to three meetings a day. I went after my recovery just like I went after drug or drink, but most importantly I became honest with myself. That was very painful. I already knew I had caused a lot of people a lot of pain, but there is something about doing a personal inventory, putting a pen to paper, and cleaning up my side of the street. Something about admitting to God and to another human being the exact nature of my wrongs and getting down to causes and conditions. I remember I cried for hours. I saw patterns of why I did some of the things I did.
I am a member and hold positions in 12-step meetings today. I visit jails and treatment centers carrying the message of recovery to them. I also give back to my community in other fashions like volunteering at a church’s community outreach program on a weekly basis. I am very privileged and honored to be able to serve at this food pantry. This truly is one of my favorite mornings of the week. Most of the people that work there remember me when I was in my active addiction and seeking help from them for food. They remember how I would selfishly take and take again, disregarding the true purpose of their humbleness. They remember how I used to be, and they now know how humble I have become. But what they remember most is the demonic grip that was upon my soul. God is constantly showing me how I used to be compared to where I am today. It is a constant reminder, and I love it.
In August 2012, I committed my life to Christ, and I was baptized. I am also a member of an addictions ministry and on-the-bus ministry. I now realize how God has always been there for me and has done what I could not do for myself. I’m now and forever Property of God.
Although I have been on disability for 14 years, I’m starting a federal work-study job next week (mentoring and tutoring), and I am currently a full time student at community college. I’m going for my master’s degree in substance abuse counseling. My long-term goal is to start earning a living again and get off of disability. Who would have ever thought a crackhead like me could attain a GPA of 4.0? Never in my wildest dreams did I think this was possible. I had no idea my life would be like it is today. I am so very grateful for meetings and the 12 steps of recovery. I am helping others recover from that hopeless state of mind by sponsoring women from all walks of life. It is an honor and a privilege to guide women through the 12 steps and show them how to apply them in daily life.
I’m not saying all has been peaches and cream. I’ve gone through a lot since I’ve been in recovery. Both of my daughters have unsuccessfully tried to end their lives (God having my back again), one due to depression and the other due to drug addiction. I tell you this not because I want pity, but because it doesn’t matter what happens, I don’t pick up. Let me say that again: It doesn’t matter what happens, don’t pick up! I have a sponsor, who has a sponsor, who has a sponsor. Something my sponsor tells me that puts me in check is, “There you go thinking again.” I don’t always like what my sponsor tells me, but that’s okay, I don’t have to like it. I accept her constructive criticism, because I don’t want to get high anymore. I have a wonderful foundation of women who I can call any time. I am so blessed and grateful. I am still married, although separated, and I do not go into any new relationship because I have decided to build a relationship with my creator. I am Christian now, have no spare time and want to lead by example. My addiction and recovery led me to the Bible.
As I said before, I am an addict whose problem’s name is Kim. Thank you for allowing me to share my story, and I hope and pray I have said something to help at least one person. As long as I have reached that one person, my goal was accomplished.