Beautiful Disaster? I think that labels me pretty well. I'm currently 35 yrs old & I've been addicted to Heroin since I was 16 yrs old. There's a lot of things I would've done different if I could go back, but if I could go back to the first time I tried Heroin I wouldn't change it. All the pain, misery, loneliness, heartache, shame, guilt etc. has made me the person I am today. I was 23 yrs old the first time I went to jail. I went to the West Side of Chicago to pick up dope for my fiancé and I. I got pulled over right after I got my dope. The cops can pull you over just for being white on the West Side of Chicago because there's only one reason why white people would be there and that's to get dope. Anyways, that first night in jail was torture. I was withdrawing so bad off of Heroin - fever, hot and cold sweats, all my bones and muscles were aching. Just imagine the worst flu you've ever had times 100. That's how bad Heroin withdrawal is. Most would rather die. Other girls were withdrawing as well, and one girl was crying all night that she didn't deserve to be in there. The next morning I was taken to the courthouse. I was put in what they called the "Bull Pen." It was probably a 12 by 12 cell with maybe 30 girls all smashed in and on top of one another. Finally, after about 6 hours, my name was called to see the judge & I was released. After my first trip to jail I've lost count of exactly how many times I've been there. In 2009 I went to prison. I was literally locked in a jail cell for 61 days straight and was only let out twice a week for a shower. When you don't have much time they keep you in solitary so the other inmates don't mess with you and to make your stay as miserable as possible. It makes sense, but words can't explain what I went through mentally. I wasn't allowed any books or paper and pencil to write so I literally just stared at a wall for 2 months.
I've overdosed 3 times. The first time I overdosed I was at my friend's house. We were both high on Heroin & I nodded out watching a movie. My mom is deaf in one ear and always sleeps on the ear she can hear out of so she can't hear anything and be woken up. That night it was storming and for the first time ever my mom was woken up from the thunder. When my mom noticed I wasn't home she started calling my cell phone. I wasn't answering because I was already overdosed by this point. My mom kept calling and calling because she later told me she had a bad feeling. Eventually my phone woke up my friend and she answered it. She couldn't wake me up. I woke up in the ambulance. That was the first and only time my mom was woken up while sleeping on the ear she can hear out of.
I've been a Heroin Addict for almost 20 years. I can write a book about everything I've been through. The worst part of my life started on the morning of July 4, 2012. My fiance (of 10 years) and I had spent the night alone at his friend's place. I had the alarm set for 9AM that Fourth of July morning. I woke up to my fiance freezing cold, blue, dead right next to me. He looked like he had been dead for a few days. It was horrifying & traumatizing. He had overdosed from a mixture of Heroin & Klonopin. His friend had arrived home no more than 2 minutes later. Of course, being addicts, from just waking up we were withdrawing. So we went to get dope first before calling 911. I loved my fiance but he was dead. There was no bringing him back at that point. But still how sick is that to not call 911. I told his friend to please tell the police that my fiance was there by himself all night because I was scared. I had a warrant out for my arrest & there was a chance that they could've accused me of giving him the drugs and getting charged with murder. At that time, Illinois had a law that you could get charged with manslaughter if you give someone drugs and they die from an overdose. We were quiet the whole car ride there and back. I was in complete shock. When we got back I took my fiance's favorite bracelet from off his wrist, gave him a kiss & said my goodbyes. Afterwards, I went straight to my best friend's house. I remember telling my best friend "Please don't die because there's no way I could deal with the death of both if you." 5 months later she found out she had stage 4 lung & liver cancer. The chemo didn't work. The cancer was too far progressed and she died 6 months after my fiance. I had lost the two most important people in my life. My fiance and my best friend.
After that I didn't care about anything. I didn't care whether I lived or died. I wanted to die but I didn't have the guts to kill myself. I just continued to do a lot of drugs. At this time I was working as a stripper. 1 night at work I met my soon to be best friend/the most important person in my life. The sweetest man, we'll call him John. He's an older man in his 70's and started supporting me so I quit my job, and let me just say he's never asked for anything in return, not once. At this time, I was living in my car. John moved me into a motel. He came to the motel every morning to bring me $100 for drugs, but he didn't know that. If he asked what the money was for I would make up something but he rarely asked. I eventually started getting two huge wounds on top of my right wrist & on top of my left thigh from shooting up. I cared, but not enough to go to the hospital or stop shooting up in those places. The wounds got so deep that I started seeing bone & it was a lot easier to shoot up cuz I could literally see my veins. I lived in the motel for about 2 years. Eventually I found a 2 bedroom apartment in Chicago. After a few months, one of my friends moved in with me. She needed a place to stay because she was moving back from Florida. She was also a Heroin addict.
Eventually the wound on my wrist was so bad that it was down to the bone, and the bone cracked in half by itself, so I had no use of my right hand. The wound on my leg was also so bad and so painful that I couldn't walk. I just told John that I fell out of the shower. I couldn't tell him the truth and take the risk of having him stop giving me money or stop paying for my apartment. Eventually, I got evicted because of the drug use and from smoking indoors because I couldn't walk to get outside to smoke. My roommate found us another apartment not far from where we were. John had to pretty much carry me to or new apartment. The only way I could walk is with a lot of help. That would be the last time I'd walk for a long time. My wounds spread and got so bad that I had no flesh from my hips down to my knees on both thighs. I had no flesh from my elbow to my wrist on my right arm. I started getting bed sores on my butt that were tunneling because I couldn't get out of bed. I was in that bed for months. I started getting maggots in my wounds. My organs were starting to shut down. The bacteria was starting to eat away at my brain that when I talked I wasn't making sense. I was hallucinating. I remember everyday I thought I was in a new apartment in a different room. I weighed 60 pounds. John still had no idea I was on drugs. He thought I had a serious disease or something. My roommate would constantly tell me I need to go to the hospital but I refused. I wanted to die. I wanted to be with my fiance and my best friend. Words can't explain how bad my condition really was. Eventually my roommate called my family and told them what was going on so my mom, my dad, my sister and my brother in law came to my apartment. My sister threw up when she saw me. They called 911 but when the ambulance got there I still refused to go. The paramedics asked me questions like who's the president? What's the date? What day is it? Questions everyone should know but I didn't know the answer to any of them and that's what saved my life because now they had a reason to take me in. When I got to the hospital and the Heroin started wearing off I was in excruciating pain. My flesh was gone to the bone. I felt like someone poured alcohol all over me and lit me on fire. I had 0 muscle - all my muscle was gone because I was eaten from the outside in and the inside out. Every single one of my bones felt like it was broken. I couldn't move. If anyone touched me or moved me I would scream in agony. I fell into a coma for 3 days. The doctors told my family that I had a 50% chance of surviving & if there's anyone they need to call to come see me they had to do it now. So the rest of my family came to see me. I had spent 9 months in the hospital. I pulled through and made it out alive.
I now suffer from PTSD, Nightmares, Night Terrors, Hallucinations, Auditory Hallucinations, Sleep Paralysis, Depression and Anxiety. It's been about 2 and a half years since I was released from the hospital and I'm 3 and a half years clean. I'm currently going to school to become a Substance Abuse Counselor. I was put on this Earth to help other people and tell my story. I have this strange feeling I'm gonna make a big impact in some way. I don't know when. I don't know how. I don't know what but I'm gonna do and be something great. And that's why I'm a BEAUTIFUL DISASTER.