The beginning

I am writing this to tell about my journey so far and in hopes that someone may read it and say "hey that sounds like something I'm going thru, if she can do it so can I." September 2, 2024 I was sent to jail for another failed drug test for probation. At this point in my life I did not realize what a privilege it was to have the opportunity to be on probation. I had spent the 2 or 3 months prior to this date cheating the system or so I thought. At the end of the day I was really just cheating myself. At around 9AM on the 2nd I was arrested and charged with 2 more felony charges. I flipped out. I was sent to jail without knowing how long I was about to spend, when I would get to hug my children again, when I would get to enjoy any of the little things we take for granted like using a phone whenever we want or watching our favorite tv show or using the bathroom in peace or deciding what we want to eat for breakfast that morning. If you've ever stepped foot in jail you know the moment that cell door closes behind you, your life seems over like theres no hope. That's where I was at. I spent 3 days in isolation by myself. Let me tell you for someone that suffers from CPTSD, manic depression and anxiety being put in a 6 ft by 4 ft cement dark room alone with nothing but your blanket, and a toilet you will go insane. I was treated like the plague. I was given 3 meals a day with maybe 3-4 minutes to eat each one, no shower, no phone calls, no tv, no human interaction, none of the little things we find joy in for 3 days and nights. You will find yourself talking to yourself, stuck in your head, which is somewhere I didnt need to be left alone. You will hit rock bottom. A cellmate of mine made the statement jail is where hope goes to die. This is exactly what I felt like doing--dying. Once I was finally put into population (which is a cell with other individuals 10 other individuals to be exact) and could use the phone I called my children to say I was sorry. The day I went to jail I said some pretty mean things to my children to kind of guilt trip them into thinking if I webt to jail they were the reason for it. Something that only I was the reason for. They resented me. I couldn't blame them. I slowly came to realize that just because I had remorse and guilt and shame and wanted them to forgive me did not necessarily mean they had to accept my apology or even speak to me. I felt like I had nobody. I had created myself a very dark bubble that for so many years I found comfort in. While sitting in jail I was served with papers for my probation revocation hearing. My next court date was set for September 10th. My lawyer stated he didn't see anything good coming from the next court date. My only hope was to ask for drug court and hopefully the judge would see I wanted to do better. I wanted to do better. I wanted the change. Like most people in addiction we want different but are unsure how to actually achieve anything different. I laid on that cold cement floor cuddled up in my blanket crying myself to sleep each and every night. Praying to my HP for a second chance. Making promises to myself to God that I would never use again if I was awarded another chance at life. On September 10th I was granted drug court and was released from jail. All I had ever heard about drug court was it is set up for failure. There is hardly anyone that ever graduates drug court because of all the hoops and jumps you have to go through. Its an at minimum 18 months program that a team of specialty court personal have to agree to accept you into. Taking at minimum 2 drug screenings a week, three self help meetings, group therapy sessions, meetings with your probation officer and judge weekly all while learning to maintain a sober lifestyle. This is definetely something you must want mentally. You must be willing to give up your old ways and learn to become a new you. You would have thought I would have learned my lesson and was ready to be clean. Well apparently not. I went right back to the streets within 30 minutes of being released from jail. But thankfully it was the last day. I felt so much guilt and shame that I couldn’t even enjoy the high. I just wanted to be home with my girls and my momma. I wanted to spend my time with them. They give me peace. They give me hope. They give me reason. At that time my reasoning was not for myself. I had hit rock bottom. I felt like I had no reason left to live. I was terrified of the thought of having to start over. I knew that everything would have to change. The people I considered friends I could no longer be around or talk to. Places I used to hang out would have to change. Anything that triggered my mind to want to use I would have to learn to cut out of my life and replace it with something new. Thankfully, I had people who could be my sober support system. People who could help me through these trying times. My children wanted me to be the mother they knew I could be. My mother wanted her daughter back. So what did I do? I may have known my triggers. I may have known I needed to quit associating with certain people. I struggled with these things. I asked myself the questions, "why do I need to quit talking to them, all I have to do is say no, I can still be around them." "Why do I need to attend these self help meetings, they won't help." I ask myself these silly questions daily in the beginning. I was afraid of change, afraid of what others might say about me, I didn't want to admit I needed help. I knew this was not an overnight process. I didn’t become an addict overnight. I shouldn't expect to overcome addiction overnight either. I have finally came to terms with being a grateful recovering addict. Keep tuned for the days to come as I speak about my recovery process. The good, the bad, the ugly, and all the things inbetween.