Back in 1995-1996 I got into meth. At first it started small, it kept me going when I would go out partying all night. I was 23 and lived in an apartment with a buddy and we did acid/weed/meth/shrooms quite a bit.
Pretty much every Tuesday night Id go dancing at a fav club, Id always have a small sack of stuff with me to keep going through the night. I was a skinny sucker because of it. Thats when I met my wife. I finally hooked up with her after many attempts and we did meth together, smoked weed, and partied. I ended up moving out of my apartment and moving back with my folks. This period was short lived though because the more I hung out with my wife, the more I found myself being over her place all the time. You know the story, she didnt have a TV and I did. I brought mine over, etc .then I just moved in. This also was short lived as she became pregnant and we were both 24 and felt we had to get a place of our own. We got married. She stopped doing drugs and smoking through this, but I continued. We ended up living at my old complex where I lived with my friend I mentioned earlier and our daughter was born on Aug 1996.
We eventually bought a house. Good news? Nope, it was right across the street from my main dealer. It should be mentioned that I briefly worked at a video store and wouldnt be off work until 11pm, and then Id race down to a filthy part of town in an area not fit for pigs to score my meth from an automotive area that seemed more like a commune of dope dealers and trailers. It should also be said that I would often be so high that sometimes I stayed there all night, sometimes smoking it with a pregnant epileptic girl that hung out at the camp. I would do all the typical tweeker things, paint chairs, sweep, wash my car at midnight. Thing is, I was never at home. Sometimes, I would just be up and drive around. If I happened to stop off at a 7-11 at 2:30am and volunteer to sweep the gas pump area and driveway, I did it. I would paint my washer and dryer and stay in the shed until dawn, picking bits of paint off the walls. I was in very, very bad shape.
By this time now I was in between jobs a lot more because of my drug use; I would steal a lot and be fired for it (gone from the video store by now). I worked at bookstores mainly and ended up getting a job at one in a local mall after being fired from another bookstore earlier, before the video store. This was bad as well as I ended up meeting a janitor about my age that worked there who lived in Tijuana and also had access to meth. We had a lot in common so after work every night, I just wouldnt come home. I would go to TJ, party, dance and do drugs all night. Sometimes I came home; sometimes I just went right back to work.
I never told my wife where I was and we were definitely falling apart. She knew something was up, but not meth addiction. Many instances occurred where she knew I was doing drugs but never how much, what and how often. Some weird things happened in that house, like once when I left my baby girl alone asleep to cross the street to go to my dealers place to score. I was only a minute or so (or was I?) and I walked back home to find the cops in front stating they received a call from INSIDE the house saying a child had been left alone in side. I was asked if I did drugs, to which I answered no, and my Mom and wife had been called and were both there waiting with the police. CPS came out twice and after that, the whole thing was dropped. I never found out who made the call.
Soon, I was told my wife was pregnant again, this time with my son. This was about 1999.
Well, things didnt change for me, not one bit. I weighed about 120 lbs and was at a dead end job snorting meth even more than ever. Then, my son was born. The most painful thing Ill ever have to live with is knowing that I did lines in the hospital bathroom the day he was born. I couldnt even go watch my kid be born without putting that junk up my nose. Its hard for me to even watch the video of it or look at pictures these days, I cant even recognize the guy in the images.
I still remember finding the divorce papers in my wifes purse. I was fired again for stealing and now I had no job and my car had been repossessed. I had spent all my money on drugs and my spiral was going faster by the day. I had no prospect for a job and no ambition to work anyway. This is where I fall.
I found the divorce papers and went berzerk. Something sparked in me like a survival panic and I called a friend to pick me up. I went to my wifes work and took her car since I didnt have one. Why? What was the purpose? I dont know. I drove it back to my house and decided, Hey, Im out of dust, better go across the street. I ended up buying a pretty big quantity of meth this time because I didnt know if she took me off the bank account or not and I didnt know what I was doing anyway. I went home and tore off the kitchen tablecloth; we had a glass tabletop so it was perfect for making big lines. I dumped the whole bag out on the table and began chopping the rock. I must have done an arm-length line because as soon as I was done, I began to load things in the car like a madman. Where was I going? The TV, clothes, furniture stuff.
My neighbors saw me and called my wife and work. She called the police.
So here I am loading it all into my car when they arrive. I sat down on the front steps, said hello and asked why they were there. They said there was a report of someone stealing things and putting them in a car. I explained to the officers it was my house, these were my things and this was my car. They asked me if I had proof and although I was kind of hesitant, I said no problem as my drivers license was inside on the kitchen table. They asked if they could go inside and see it and I said yes.
My license sure was inside on the kitchen table, right next to the giant pile of meth I had just emptied out on it. The officers led the way and saw the kitchen table with its contents and all spread out across it. One turned around and said, Is this why you didnt want to let us in? Rather than run, fight or resist I simply turned around and put my hands behind my back without saying anything except, Thank you, this has been coming for a long time
Jesus was coming for me. But he needed to make sure I was ready to listen.
I was put in the back of the cop car with neighbors looking on like, well, neighbors who watch their neighbor get arrested. Still high, kind of in denial and thinking Id be out in an hour, I was taken to the local station and photographed and put in a small cell. Now, keep in mind I have never received so much attention from an officer other than a parking ticket and my run in the night I left my daughter unattended. Being in a cold cell makes you come to your senses quickly and your dope mentality kick in. I quickly ratted out all my connects in a written statement, thinking it would help me get out. I heard the cell door unlock and I thought I was being rescued by my Mom or Dad or something. Nope, I was heading downtown to the main jail for possession, being under the influence and intent to distribute (because of the amount I had). I was thrown in a holding room with one call and a boatload of criminals, hobos and drunks. I made a call to my Dad, my one hope of getting out of this and he told, Sorry Son, I love you but I cant get you out.
Hearing that, my spirit sunk. That was it; this is what it all led up to.
Being in jail is a lot like being a bird in a cage I imagine. You are fed, given a place to sleep and never let out. I had never even seen a jail until that night but I got the full tour and time to spare. I was there for two nights and three days, which is very small I suppose in comparison to some, but immensely huge to a guy quickly coming down off a speed binge, scared to death and new to the area. The only ones who visited me were my Mom and Aunt, telling me about court dates and how much they loved me and how scared they were for me. I was also given those divorce papers I mentioned earlier to read. My wife was done and I didnt blame her. From the moment I got there I vowed I was done with drugs, but it seemed it was too late. When I got out, it was night. It took 5 hours to release me, which is horrible because youre basically put from room to room to room until the end. Approximate waiting time per room: hour and a half. This may not seem bad, but when youre curled in a fetal next to 20 filthy dudes in a room made for 15 people its an eternity.
When I got out finally, it hit me. I was alone. I looked to the sky and remembered someone I hadnt thought of in years. I remembered his name was Jesus and that I used to have a relationship with him when I was happy and young. I believe I spoke with him that night while looking up to the sky. I thanked him and asked him for help.
My Mom sent her boyfriend to pick me up, but my wife had a restraining order against me seeing her or my kids or even returning to my own house. I stayed overnight at my parents down the street and in the morning I was given only one choice: rehab. I didnt have to think about it twice.
That day my Mom drove me down to the Salvation Army rehab center for adults. It houses guys who have addictions and you are either voluntary or court mandated. I was voluntary. Part of my getting out of jail though was to go to rehab meetings, but not to check myself in somewhere. I had no place to go so it seemed the logical choice. I will make this part short, but that place was boot camp (pun intended as my wife & I are both attending The Rocks Boot Camp). I cried myself to sleep every night there for a year. For the 1st 3 months, no contact with the outside world, not even letters. It was tough.
You know the things you donate to Salvation Army? All the clothes, books, shoes, etc ? A LOT of this stuff is unwashed or filthy and I shifted through mountains of that for days on end. It made me ill ..a lot. Guess what they give you when youre sick? One aspirin and its back to work. If youre deathly ill, you are on bed rest with nothing but water and that one aspirin. It was taxing day in and day out but I knew I had to do it. After I graduated finally after my year I was on speaking terms again with my wife, although we were still divorcing. I finally saw my kids again too and it was with sober eyes this time and a renewed relationship with our Lord. I realized I had been high almost their entire lives until then and it hit me like a ton of bricks. My wife and kids attended my graduation.
Well, once youre there a year you move back to reality, so to speak. What I mean is, you gotta find a job. I moved to a different location downtown for graduates that have jobs and want to live and save to once again return to the real world. I found a job at a hotel and saved $10K over the course of another year, during which time my wife had moved to a smaller house closer to where we currently live because she couldnt afford the house we bought by herself. She saw I was healthy, sober and working and welcomed me back, tore up the divorce papers and soon we were a happy family again. I had overcome something that could have killed me had I continued, something that destroyed my life and led me to give up what I held most precious in this life. Jesus never left my side through this. This was almost 7 years ago.
Weve since moved from that place to a nice apartment and found myself an even better job working for local government and Ive been here for 5 years (longest Ive ever held a job). From time to time I think about those days, not with fondness but with fear that I could be dead. Flashing back hits me too sometimes, and its hard to place the man I am now with that guy who did all those horrible things. I pretty much forget it all the minute I hear my kids laughter and see my beautiful wifes smiling face. I owe God a debt I can never repay.
Thanks for reading this. Peace in Christ.
Pretty much every Tuesday night Id go dancing at a fav club, Id always have a small sack of stuff with me to keep going through the night. I was a skinny sucker because of it. Thats when I met my wife. I finally hooked up with her after many attempts and we did meth together, smoked weed, and partied. I ended up moving out of my apartment and moving back with my folks. This period was short lived though because the more I hung out with my wife, the more I found myself being over her place all the time. You know the story, she didnt have a TV and I did. I brought mine over, etc .then I just moved in. This also was short lived as she became pregnant and we were both 24 and felt we had to get a place of our own. We got married. She stopped doing drugs and smoking through this, but I continued. We ended up living at my old complex where I lived with my friend I mentioned earlier and our daughter was born on Aug 1996.
We eventually bought a house. Good news? Nope, it was right across the street from my main dealer. It should be mentioned that I briefly worked at a video store and wouldnt be off work until 11pm, and then Id race down to a filthy part of town in an area not fit for pigs to score my meth from an automotive area that seemed more like a commune of dope dealers and trailers. It should also be said that I would often be so high that sometimes I stayed there all night, sometimes smoking it with a pregnant epileptic girl that hung out at the camp. I would do all the typical tweeker things, paint chairs, sweep, wash my car at midnight. Thing is, I was never at home. Sometimes, I would just be up and drive around. If I happened to stop off at a 7-11 at 2:30am and volunteer to sweep the gas pump area and driveway, I did it. I would paint my washer and dryer and stay in the shed until dawn, picking bits of paint off the walls. I was in very, very bad shape.
By this time now I was in between jobs a lot more because of my drug use; I would steal a lot and be fired for it (gone from the video store by now). I worked at bookstores mainly and ended up getting a job at one in a local mall after being fired from another bookstore earlier, before the video store. This was bad as well as I ended up meeting a janitor about my age that worked there who lived in Tijuana and also had access to meth. We had a lot in common so after work every night, I just wouldnt come home. I would go to TJ, party, dance and do drugs all night. Sometimes I came home; sometimes I just went right back to work.
I never told my wife where I was and we were definitely falling apart. She knew something was up, but not meth addiction. Many instances occurred where she knew I was doing drugs but never how much, what and how often. Some weird things happened in that house, like once when I left my baby girl alone asleep to cross the street to go to my dealers place to score. I was only a minute or so (or was I?) and I walked back home to find the cops in front stating they received a call from INSIDE the house saying a child had been left alone in side. I was asked if I did drugs, to which I answered no, and my Mom and wife had been called and were both there waiting with the police. CPS came out twice and after that, the whole thing was dropped. I never found out who made the call.
Soon, I was told my wife was pregnant again, this time with my son. This was about 1999.
Well, things didnt change for me, not one bit. I weighed about 120 lbs and was at a dead end job snorting meth even more than ever. Then, my son was born. The most painful thing Ill ever have to live with is knowing that I did lines in the hospital bathroom the day he was born. I couldnt even go watch my kid be born without putting that junk up my nose. Its hard for me to even watch the video of it or look at pictures these days, I cant even recognize the guy in the images.
I still remember finding the divorce papers in my wifes purse. I was fired again for stealing and now I had no job and my car had been repossessed. I had spent all my money on drugs and my spiral was going faster by the day. I had no prospect for a job and no ambition to work anyway. This is where I fall.
I found the divorce papers and went berzerk. Something sparked in me like a survival panic and I called a friend to pick me up. I went to my wifes work and took her car since I didnt have one. Why? What was the purpose? I dont know. I drove it back to my house and decided, Hey, Im out of dust, better go across the street. I ended up buying a pretty big quantity of meth this time because I didnt know if she took me off the bank account or not and I didnt know what I was doing anyway. I went home and tore off the kitchen tablecloth; we had a glass tabletop so it was perfect for making big lines. I dumped the whole bag out on the table and began chopping the rock. I must have done an arm-length line because as soon as I was done, I began to load things in the car like a madman. Where was I going? The TV, clothes, furniture stuff.
My neighbors saw me and called my wife and work. She called the police.
So here I am loading it all into my car when they arrive. I sat down on the front steps, said hello and asked why they were there. They said there was a report of someone stealing things and putting them in a car. I explained to the officers it was my house, these were my things and this was my car. They asked me if I had proof and although I was kind of hesitant, I said no problem as my drivers license was inside on the kitchen table. They asked if they could go inside and see it and I said yes.
My license sure was inside on the kitchen table, right next to the giant pile of meth I had just emptied out on it. The officers led the way and saw the kitchen table with its contents and all spread out across it. One turned around and said, Is this why you didnt want to let us in? Rather than run, fight or resist I simply turned around and put my hands behind my back without saying anything except, Thank you, this has been coming for a long time
Jesus was coming for me. But he needed to make sure I was ready to listen.
I was put in the back of the cop car with neighbors looking on like, well, neighbors who watch their neighbor get arrested. Still high, kind of in denial and thinking Id be out in an hour, I was taken to the local station and photographed and put in a small cell. Now, keep in mind I have never received so much attention from an officer other than a parking ticket and my run in the night I left my daughter unattended. Being in a cold cell makes you come to your senses quickly and your dope mentality kick in. I quickly ratted out all my connects in a written statement, thinking it would help me get out. I heard the cell door unlock and I thought I was being rescued by my Mom or Dad or something. Nope, I was heading downtown to the main jail for possession, being under the influence and intent to distribute (because of the amount I had). I was thrown in a holding room with one call and a boatload of criminals, hobos and drunks. I made a call to my Dad, my one hope of getting out of this and he told, Sorry Son, I love you but I cant get you out.
Hearing that, my spirit sunk. That was it; this is what it all led up to.
Being in jail is a lot like being a bird in a cage I imagine. You are fed, given a place to sleep and never let out. I had never even seen a jail until that night but I got the full tour and time to spare. I was there for two nights and three days, which is very small I suppose in comparison to some, but immensely huge to a guy quickly coming down off a speed binge, scared to death and new to the area. The only ones who visited me were my Mom and Aunt, telling me about court dates and how much they loved me and how scared they were for me. I was also given those divorce papers I mentioned earlier to read. My wife was done and I didnt blame her. From the moment I got there I vowed I was done with drugs, but it seemed it was too late. When I got out, it was night. It took 5 hours to release me, which is horrible because youre basically put from room to room to room until the end. Approximate waiting time per room: hour and a half. This may not seem bad, but when youre curled in a fetal next to 20 filthy dudes in a room made for 15 people its an eternity.
When I got out finally, it hit me. I was alone. I looked to the sky and remembered someone I hadnt thought of in years. I remembered his name was Jesus and that I used to have a relationship with him when I was happy and young. I believe I spoke with him that night while looking up to the sky. I thanked him and asked him for help.
My Mom sent her boyfriend to pick me up, but my wife had a restraining order against me seeing her or my kids or even returning to my own house. I stayed overnight at my parents down the street and in the morning I was given only one choice: rehab. I didnt have to think about it twice.
That day my Mom drove me down to the Salvation Army rehab center for adults. It houses guys who have addictions and you are either voluntary or court mandated. I was voluntary. Part of my getting out of jail though was to go to rehab meetings, but not to check myself in somewhere. I had no place to go so it seemed the logical choice. I will make this part short, but that place was boot camp (pun intended as my wife & I are both attending The Rocks Boot Camp). I cried myself to sleep every night there for a year. For the 1st 3 months, no contact with the outside world, not even letters. It was tough.
You know the things you donate to Salvation Army? All the clothes, books, shoes, etc ? A LOT of this stuff is unwashed or filthy and I shifted through mountains of that for days on end. It made me ill ..a lot. Guess what they give you when youre sick? One aspirin and its back to work. If youre deathly ill, you are on bed rest with nothing but water and that one aspirin. It was taxing day in and day out but I knew I had to do it. After I graduated finally after my year I was on speaking terms again with my wife, although we were still divorcing. I finally saw my kids again too and it was with sober eyes this time and a renewed relationship with our Lord. I realized I had been high almost their entire lives until then and it hit me like a ton of bricks. My wife and kids attended my graduation.
Well, once youre there a year you move back to reality, so to speak. What I mean is, you gotta find a job. I moved to a different location downtown for graduates that have jobs and want to live and save to once again return to the real world. I found a job at a hotel and saved $10K over the course of another year, during which time my wife had moved to a smaller house closer to where we currently live because she couldnt afford the house we bought by herself. She saw I was healthy, sober and working and welcomed me back, tore up the divorce papers and soon we were a happy family again. I had overcome something that could have killed me had I continued, something that destroyed my life and led me to give up what I held most precious in this life. Jesus never left my side through this. This was almost 7 years ago.
Weve since moved from that place to a nice apartment and found myself an even better job working for local government and Ive been here for 5 years (longest Ive ever held a job). From time to time I think about those days, not with fondness but with fear that I could be dead. Flashing back hits me too sometimes, and its hard to place the man I am now with that guy who did all those horrible things. I pretty much forget it all the minute I hear my kids laughter and see my beautiful wifes smiling face. I owe God a debt I can never repay.
Thanks for reading this. Peace in Christ.
