JACKSONVILLE — Getting clean wasn't just an option - it was the only choice I had if I wanted to survive.
I may have been only 14 at the time, but addiction sees no age, and so there I was.
The cold truth was that I was a little girl, a child in most eyes, who had been swept up by addiction. Drugs had consumed me, changed me, and tried to kill me.
I spent nights on park benches and days in the shadows. My parents existed, but that didn't matter to me.
I liked being on the run until I got taken away. The state picked me up off the side of the street and rushed me away. I didn't get to say goodbye to anyone that day.
I rode in the back of a cop car with a heavy chain around my waist that followed another, smaller, chain to the cold steel around my wrists. As I struggled in the back seat my ankles slowly started to bleed as the shackles tore at my skin.
It was a long ride, and I eventually fell asleep. A hospital gown was draped over me, and my long hair was all in knots.
When we arrived, I stumbled in and sat down. They took my picture, and they were nice. I didn't realize I was in rehab at the Brattleboro Retreat until later that night. All that really mattered to me was that I was somewhere warm and safe.
* * *
Then I prepared to get clean. I did well there for the first couple of weeks, and then they moved me to a different floor, where there were more rules and where it was all girls.
I can't say that I don't like women, but I can say that living with 11 of them is a bit different when you never know what to expect. I managed to do it without much conflict.
I did well in treatment, I have to say, but I realize that I should have tried harder while I was there. After I left eight months later, I relapsed quite quickly and was back to where I started.
I had moved back in with my parents and I quickly fell apart, but thank God it only lasted a couple of months because I got sick, really sick, and my life was almost gone.
One day, as I lay in my bed, I wondered: What would life be like if I wasn't so sick? What would it be like if I quit drugs again?
I sat up really straight and I stuck my index finger in the air and yelled “Aha! I've got it!”
I didn't have to get high every day if I got some help.
It never occurred to me that I knew how and where I could go; I was just so consumed with getting high that returning to rehab seemed like a long stretch. But I knew I was ready to get clean again.
* * *
I got up and went to school and found myself help. I made phone calls and had meetings with the state, hoping for a way out. My social worker found me a bed at the Retreat.
I knew I would be all right as soon as everything was set; I had a chance now to do what's best. I went home right away and started to pack my bags; it was emotional to think how sick I was and the fact that I could get better was the greatest feeling of all.
Waking up the next day was almost a breeze. I threw my bags in the car and my mother and I were off very quickly.
We were due to check in at 11 o'clock and we got there just in time. As I got signed in and they took a bunch of tests, my new room was being cleaned. I felt like the luckiest person to be back.
The best part was that I never died like I thought that I would. I was actually feeling better before anyone thought I could. It felt so good to be back that I couldn't help but smile. I was safe and getting better.
I did my detox and made a pact.
I promised myself that I never had to get high again if I didn't want to.
With that, I stayed at the Retreat a long time - 10 months, to be exact.
I loved it there so much. I treated the floor I was on like my permanent home; I held back no emotions while I stayed there.
One thing that I did differently than the first time around was I didn't hold back how I was feeling, ever. If I was angry, I would throw things, and if I was sad I would cry.
When I was happy, I would spend time with my friends that I had made there. I had my 15th birthday while locked up in rehab; they made me a cake and it was great. I couldn't have asked for much more.
But I had been there so long that I couldn't imagine life outside of the Retreat. I had become institutionalized because my stay had been much, much longer than anyone had planned. I had never thought about leaving while I was there and so when it came time for me to go I had no clue where I was going to go.
When it came to leaving the Brattleboro Retreat, I still wanted more. I wanted more recovery and maybe more treatment, but I knew one thing for sure, I wanted to stay in Brattleboro.
I knew I had gotten clean here and I found the town safe, but I found most off all that the town catered to my needs in more than one way. We've got 12-step programs, rehabs, halfway houses, and Turning Point.
Now I had a chance to stay far away from the people whom I used with and, most importantly of all, their drugs.
I chose to stay in Brattleboro and build my life here.
* * *
Telling my parents was one of the most difficult conversations I've ever had to partake in. I love my parents to death and I will all my life, but when it comes to my recovery I don't like to risk things. I've made that mistake before.
I knew that the town of Brattleboro is a special place, and I knew that I belonged here. The only problem was my parents and how sad they would be to hear that I couldn't live with them due to this disease of addiction that was once wrapped around my throat.
When I made my choice, my parents were hurt but they also understood that addiction isn't a joke. It took a little, but they agreed and I could move on with my life, living in Brattleboro where I felt I belonged.
With all the treatment in this town, my team chose one that really fit. I participated in a year-long residential treatment program that was really focused on change, where I would learn all about myself and what I would have to do to keep the gift of recovery that I have worked so hard for.
The people in my program brought me to my 12-step meetings and I did really great: I made it to a year, and I got to celebrate. I never thought I could do it, but somehow I did. Everyone signed a card and gave me a one-year medallion for me to hold tight.
* * *
I kept going to meetings and doing as I was told. Then I turned 16, and I felt old. I started to struggle being in high school and remaining clean.
I felt like an outcast and it seemed as if everyone did drugs, but after a while I found a group of friends who were clean. What a relief to know that I wasn't alone.
I was still in the state's custody, and I was still happy with my choice. I was still in love with the town, and everything was good. I visited my parents on the weekends and all went well there, but when I returned to Brattleboro, my home town just couldn't compare.
After a year had gone by and my time was done at the house, I moved into my first foster home and did it without doubts. Things went pretty well and I started making a life of my own until one day we got into a fight and I stormed out of the house.
With nowhere to go and tears in my eyes, I called a friend in the program and asked for help. He came and picked me up and brought me to a safe place.
We went to the Northeastern Family Institute office and they searched for a place for me to go. There wasn't a place anywhere, and away to a lockdown I went. I was there for three weeks until they finally found a home.
I had almost two years clean, and I wanted to get back out in time to celebrate. It happened, just barely. The state found me a home, it was a little farther from Brattleboro than I had wanted, but I moved in and everything was great. I was back in time to celebrate and everything was as back to normal as it was going to get. I live in this home today, and I'm happy about that.
* * *
Since I've been in custody, I've moved seven times, I've attended six high schools, and I've had four social workers. My life is hard, but I deal with it. I'm clean, and that's what I wanted. I didn't exactly ask to move so many times but I'm still clean.
I asked my higher power to take my will and my life, to guide me in my recovery, and to show me how to live. As long as I have the basic principles of my recovery, I can make it anywhere I go.
If someone asked me today if it was worth it, I would tell them that, yes, it was worth it, and I'm proud to be where I am today.