I grew up with four siblings—an older brother, a younger sister and two younger brothers. I was an intelligent child but lacked social skills. The fact that my family didn't have much money also made it hard to fit in. Both of my parents worked, which led to a lack of supervision at times. I began using and drinking at the age of twelve. My older brother coerced me into staying home from school to smoke pot with him. He threatened to beat me up if I didn't. This also made it impossible for me to tell on him. I experimented with drinking on my own and I found out quickly how much easier it was to feel comfortable while under the influence.

My using progressed rather quickly and by the time I was 13, I was participating in illegal activities including burglary, skipping school and selling pot to my friends. By the time I was 14 I ran away from home a lot and often missed school. Juvenile court took notice and I was sent to a group home after a 1-month stay in a detention facility for minors. I spent the next two years in that group home. I didn't stop using because I sabotaged myself at every opportunity. But at times I had hope that there might be a better life for me.

By the time I was sixteen, I spent at least three nights a week in the local bar and I consumed many other substances. My parents were divorced and my mom was partying a lot too. I met a guy who eventually became my first husband. He moved in with me and provided me with a lot of drugs and alcohol. What more could a girl ask for? Because my mom decided she needed to live with her boyfriend, I started taking care of my brothers. I was sixteen, on my own, living with my boyfriend, using every day, and trying to take care of my brothers. I didn't do a very good job because they were using too. I did, however, accomplish one thing during that time that I can be proud of—I got my GED. I don’t know how I accomplished that. I do know that it had something to do with the respect I felt for my probation officer at the time.

I stayed with my boyfriend and continued this behavior for a very long time, even though I hated my life. I was 18 when I found out I was pregnant with my first daughter. I remained in denial, continuing to use everything I could get my hands on until I was about 5 months pregnant. At that time I decided to stop using, all except a little pot. I convinced myself that pot was OK. This is the same for each of my pregnancies. I'm not proud of my choices but this is my story. I tried on occasion to do things differently but was incapable. My using continue throughout my life.

In 1988 I was arrested for dealing cocaine. A man I had used with my entire life came into my house wired. I should have known that this life I was living wasn't real and neither were my "friends". I did think that by being in jail, my life had been saved. I was pregnant for the third time and in jail, but I wasn't using. I went to treatment and thought I got it. But I stayed in my marriage and hung around the same people I had for my entire life. I figured I could stay clean any way because I was different. I did stay clean for awhile.

Well, I wormed my way out of my probation and went right back to my old ways. While my husband and I were apart, I got the brilliant idea to deal methamphetamines to supplement my income. I fell hard into the world of meth use and dealing. As the years went by there wasn't a drug that I liked that I didn't abuse thoroughly. Meth took me down a dark road as dark as the ones I had visited on alcohol and cocaine.

My life became utter chaos. My children suffered and anyone I was associated with suffered at my hands. I was psychotic most of the time because I used more than I sold. I held a lot of power and I used it on everyone I could. I had people cleaning my house, taking care of my children, washing and fixing my car, but I was more miserable than ever.

I spent the next six years awake and miserable. I began to burn all my bridges including my drug connections. My family had given up on me long before and those who used only wanted something to do with me when I had drugs. I used every day and night. I used everywhere I went. If I went to a store or somewhere to eat, I had to use in the bathroom because I couldn't get through anything without using.

In 1994, I lost my home again. This time I had no where to go. I spent about a year on the street with my kids in tow, using all the time and dealing some. I left them with people and bussed them clear across town by themselves to go to school. We got into transitional housing somehow. I can't believe I even did that. I don't remember how. My children were placed in the care of DHS a few months later after they had spent most of that time living with little supervision and no mother to speak of. My thirteen-year-old daughter was their mother. I left them alone with little food, no phone, and little hope that I would be there in the morning.

DHS placed my children in the care of family and I still continued to use. I was incapable of stopping or unable to take responsibility for my choices. I blamed everybody else and was a martyr in my own mind. I tried treatment in September of 1996 because they told me I had to. I used the entire time. I had become all of the people I said I would never be like. I no longer had the "power." I had nothing, but I kept using. I was one of those people nobody wanted to be around.

In January of 1996 I was very sick and very alone. I wanted to die but couldn't kill myself. I called "Gordon Recovery" now Jackson Recovery and begged them to let me come back as soon as possible. I don't have any concept of how long it took, if I had another evaluation, or who decided I could start, but I did start on January 25th 1996. I haven't touched a drink or a drug since that day, by the grace of God.

I went through treatment knowing that it would help me get my kids back, but I was there for selfish reasons. I wanted to live and I knew I couldn't continue to live the way I was. I successfully completed outpatient treatment in 8 weeks instead of the usual 6. I can't decide if stayed sober to prove to the people who said I wouldn't make it wrong, or out of pure desperation for another kind of life. I went to hundreds of meetings the first ninety days and listened to everything I could possibly use in my own recovery. I did almost everything the wrong way in recovery. The only thing I did perfectly was not use.

I got on housing after I stayed in the homeless shelter with my oldest daughter for about three months. By this time I was about 6 months sober and clean. I went to court and was given the privilege of being allowed to have my daughters live with me in July.

I finally finished up two years of college, when I saw an ad in the paper for an addiction technician at Gordon Recovery Women and Children's Center. I applied for the job and was hired right away. This was like a God thing. I was hire for part-time at night and by the third month, I was a full-time technician. I was very good at something for the first time in my life.

I kept bugging my supervisor about the training program I had heard of. Several people were therapists-in-training in the company and I wanted to do that. And God again went to work in my life. An opening appeared out of nowhere at the women’s halfway house. I was offered the position and although I jumped at the chance, I was scared out of my mind. I worked at that position but always made it clear that the front line was where I wanted to be. I took my training very seriously and was delighted when a position opened at Women and Children's Center.

I felt like that was my home. I have been working as a therapist there for almost three years and I feel blessed to be a part of something so important. I am now married again and my middle daughter is married and has two sons of her own. My other two daughters live in our home with us and are reasonably normal kids. I feel that I have been given an opportunity to give back what has so freely been given to me. If one other person has an opportunity to enjoy any of the benefits of recovery that I am able to, then everything that I've been through and have dragged my kids through is all worth it.


Reprinted from Recovery Iowa 2005 Recovery Month Calendar