Guest Post Angie's Story

For a while now I have been wanting others to share their story and e-mail it to me. I have been wanting to get enough to where once a week I would share a guest post so far I have only received one story. I understand that talking about your addiction and how you got there can be extremely difficult but it can also be very therapeutic for the addict in recovering. If you are wanting to do this you can e-mail me at mylife.mystory.2011@gmail.com no requirements on how long, and can be about anything you would like it to be about. You can also remain anonymous and your name will never be revealed. The reason I am wanting to do this is because I want others to know that I am not the only one that has survived addiction.

Meet 

Hi! My name is Angie. I am a 33 year old single mother of three awesome kids. I have a daughter who is 16 (she recently got her license to drive, YIKES!) and two sons who are 11 and 7. My three children are the very reasons I get up each morning and what I am most proud of in my life. I recently went back to college after 10 years and have done really well! I am currently half way through my junior year studying Psychology and Sociology. I am very proud to say that I have worked really hard and have maintained a 4.0 GPA for the past year!!!

I live in a very small town in beautiful East Tennessee (where everyone knows your business even better than you do). The town that I was born and raised in is nestled in the Appalachian Mountains. The mountains that surround us are beautiful, as are the people that reside within, but we are a secluded group of people. This seclusion, unfortunately, brings with it high poverty and drug abuse rates.  The county I live in ranks first or second, year after year, nationally for Methamphetamine lab seizures and opiates are a huge problem, as well. It is maybe not an ideal location (then again, maybe it’s perfect) for a recovering drug addict, but I am living proof that it can be done. I very recently celebrated two years of sobriety. My sobriety date is 7-14-2010, the day my life forever changed. It has been an intense 2 years and there were times that I didn't think I could remain sober for two minutes let alone 2 full years (those days are all in a row too! J). But, I am grateful to be sitting here writing my story of recovery as an addict who has chosen not to use in two years. How have I accomplished this? One day at a time! Has it been easy? Nope. But, has it been worth it? ABSOLUTELY!!!!!!!!!!!

 Going back to my early childhood, it was actually almost picture perfect. My parents owned a small mom and pop’s style restaurant (best cheeseburgers and hotdogs in the state of TN) and my two brothers and I were well cared for and wanted for nothing. Both of my parents were very involved in my life, and though we were far from rich, we lived comfortably. I played basketball and made excellent grades from elementary through middle school. Then, the trouble began. My parents abruptly divorced. It was messy. There were clothes set on fire and cars tampered with.  My Mom had just finished her degree in Computer Programming. She left my Dad (and us kids) and relocated to the city she had begun her new career in. I was beyond devastated. I was 13 or 14 and remember starting my period and having to talk to my Dad about it, since my Mom no longer lived with us. I withdrew and convinced myself that my parents’ divorce was my fault.

That summer, I lost my virginity in the worst possible way imaginable, I was raped. I was raped by a neighbor in a graveyard.  I won’t go into details, but it was pretty brutal. About a week after the rape I started my freshman year of high school. Before I was raped, I intended to lose my virginity to the boy I was dating at the time, who was also a virgin. What a horrible time in my life. My rapist came to my school a few times and called me names (like redman, because I bled on him, being a virgin), threatened me, and actually convinced me it was my fault (like I had actually wanted it). I couldn’t cope. I stopped going to school (The honor roll student completed only 30 days of her freshman year), I began smoking marijuana and drinking alcohol to numb the pain, and  I began being very promiscuous (I figured I would sleep with guys and by being willing, they couldn’t hurt me as my rapist had). Within a year, I would become pregnant with my first child. I was fifteen and couldn’t even drive myself to my own doctor’s appointments. I was arrested for the first time during my pregnancy, as well. I was caught shoplifting. From there, my life spiraled further out of control. I felt like a misfit and maybe I was. I felt much looked down upon. The stares a pregnant 15 year old gets does something to one’s self esteem. A handcuffed and pregnant 15 year old receives even more disapproving stares!

I held it together for a few years after that. I gave birth to my beautiful daughter, moved in with her much older father, got my GED, and completed two years of college. I found out that my daughter’s father had cheated on me most of my pregnancy and our relationship unraveled. We were on again off again with our relationship for a while and cut ties completely by the time my daughter was three. I was 19 and had a 3 year old daughter to support all on my own. Up until this point I was mainly addicted only to marijuana. I had dabbled in alcohol and LSD, but I was a stoner. I needed money, and quick, and made a horrible decision-I began a short lived career as an exotic dancer. The money was pretty good and my daughter wanted for nothing, but the drugs were available and plentiful. I discovered benzodiazepines and crack cocaine.

 When I was dancing, I had access to any drug imaginable.  By the age of 21 I had stopped dancing and met an addict who was even sicker than I was- my future ex-husband and the father of my boys. He was every girl’s dream- controlling, abusive, and loved to shoot up cocaine. Within two years I was shooting up cocaine daily and in no shape to take care of, my then, 7 year old daughter. It was painful, but I decided to leave her in the care of my mother, only to find out that I was pregnant again. The pregnancy ended in miscarriage (probably cocaine induced) and I broke down mentally. The guilt I felt over the death of my child proved to be more than my fragile psyche could handle. I cleaned my act up for a while, became pregnant AGAIN and gave birth to my son.  I didn’t stay clean for long. His father and I drug each other further down into our addictions. I did so many things that I am not proud of during this time. I smoked crack in front of my son and took him with me to dealers’ houses on occasion. It was ugly. His bedtime was usually about 4 AM. I began selling drugs and was busted by an undercover narcotics detective on felony resale charges for selling Oxycontin, Xanax, and Methamphetamine's.

 A few years later I gave birth to my third child, my youngest son, and discovered crystal meth and later Oxycontin. The opiates were what did me in. I began going to a “pain” clinic and getting the usual cocktail of oxy, benzos, and muscle relaxers. My youngest son was five years old and I had to shoot oxy into my veins every day to take care of his brother and him. He has held my hair while I vomited from withdrawals more times than I care to admit. I didn't become a full blown prostitute, but had things not changed I would have. Let’s just say that I hooked up with guys based on their limp and the possibility of getting them into a pain clinic, not because I found them handsome or charming. I was arrested two more times for DUI’s only weeks apart.

By this time, my now ex-husband, was serving time in prison on drug related charges and I overdosed, landing myself in intensive care. My boys were taken away from me and I woke up in ICU with one thing on my mind-getting high. I left against the doctor’s advice and did just that. My Mom began caring for my boys (remember she already had my daughter) and I went to stay with a friend while I waited to get in to treatment. During this time, separated from my children and having nothing and no one, (other than the one generous friend who took me in) I begged God every night to take me out of this world, contemplated suicide daily, and woke up angry at God that I was still breathing.

 I finally got into a treatment center in Alabama on July the 14^th, 2010 and began showing my demons who their Momma is. JI learned that I had a disease, not some kind of a moral failing. I learned about this disease I have and saw the havoc that it had wreaked on my life as well as the other people I was in rehab with. I met people who had been sober for months and even years. I began learning about myself and how and why my life had fallen apart. I began loving myself a little and slowly began forgiving myself for all I had done and the harm that I had caused. The counselors that I met in rehab helped me so much. It had been a minute since I had been treated like a real human being. They had been there themselves, they understood me, and they even saw potential in ME! I spent a few short weeks in rehab and came back to Tennessee to live with my Mom and three children.

I came home to a wrecked house (the boys had destroyed their bedrooms and had even pulled all of their clothes down out of their closets), the house was a mess, and the pill fairy must have come while I was gone because there were literally pills all over the floor of my bedroom when I walked into it (I guess I dropped them while visiting before I went to rehab???). Welcome home!!!??? My Mom had her hands full to say the least!!! I have often blamed her for not getting me into treatment or trying to help me (I still do in some ways). Maybe she didn’t realize how bad it was, denial maybe? I know she was so ashamed of me and I think she still is. She doesn’t talk to me about my recovery and seems uncomfortable if I talk about it. Don’t get me wrong, I take responsibility for my part in my downward spiral into addiction. I just think that after my parents divorced, they both checked out of my life. I was so young and vulnerable and had zero guidance. I was 14 and left for days at a time and no one ever asked where I had been.

 Regardless, I ended up flushing those pills that I found in my bedroom and the scores of others that I found around the house after returning from rehab. I began connecting with the old me (the sweet, smart, funny girl I was before my addiction consumed me), and connecting with other people in recovery (I tried NA and it just wasn't for me, but I think it’s a good program and I met many people there who taught me so much). I began reading (a couple of books a week in early recovery), exercising (releasing those endorphin's naturally!!!), and spending quality time with my children. I went back to school.  I began to heal. I’m still healing. It does get easier. We do recover-and we flourish.  My life is pretty boring these days and I no longer want to die. I have a beautiful little life, although things are not perfect. My oldest child and my parents are still distant from me, but we are making progress. My relationships with my boys are very strong and they are doing great. They are so resilient. I am humbled by my experience and thankful for my new found peace of mind. I feel so free and am no longer a slave to my addiction. I stay on top of my mental health. If I get stressed, anxious, or sad I ponder why and I talk about it, journal about it, take a walk, reach out to others, or whatever I need to do to deal with the negative feelings that are occurring, in a healthy way.

Before rehab, I honestly felt unworthy of love, true joy, or peace of mind. I hated myself. Today, I love me!!!! Writing my story has been a little difficult for me. These are hard things to talk about, but so important. If we don’t speak up about addiction and recovery, other addicts will not hear our stories and they will live in that downward spiral of addiction never knowing the beauty of and the healing that occurs in recovery. As recovering addicts, I think it’s imperative that we tell our stories, in an effort to put a face on addiction in order to lessen the stigma associated with our disease so that more addicts will seek the help that they desperately need. In one way, the hurts that I write of seem like they just happened yesterday, but in another way it seems like a different lifetime ago. It has been said that an addict who recovers lives two lives in one (as an addict and as a recovering addict). As I finish writing my story, I see the truth in that statement. After finishing school I hope to work as a substance abuse counselor and help other addicts. My dream is to work in a recovery high school. I went to treatment at the age of 31, about 15 years after the onset of my disease.  I certainly wish that I had gone to treatment much earlier in my addiction, but am thankful that I found recovery at all. Many addicts die never attempting to recover and succumb to their disease.

In closing, I realize that this is the first time that I have told my story. It has been hard, yet relieving, to get it out. I hope maybe my story will help someone or someone will relate to something in it. I want to thank Abby for giving me this opportunity to talk about my addiction and my recovery. Thanks Abby, you rock girl! J

                                                                                      From: Angie, with love.

Angie's story is amazing and truly inspirational. Thank you Angie for opening up and letting others know that it can happen, it's hard but an amazing journey to be on. The amazing journey we thought was chasing our next high, nobody thinks being sober is awesome too but it is!

Thank you again... all my love<3

Until Next time....