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Methamphetamine: Stories and Letters of the Hidden Costs
by Users, Loved Ones, and Parents

I never knew I had so much to live for...
   Growing up one of four kids I was always the good one, the responsible one, the one you never had to worry about. I think the only thing I ever did to let my mom down was when I got pregnant at 17 but even that had a positive outcome on my life, it made me work harder at becoming something. I was never going to be like my siblings- they only drank and smoked pot but I didn't even want that life. It all changed when I moved to Cali from the east coast. For the first year I kept to myself, getting a good job, going to school and eventually collage, and working on a long term goal - losing weight, which I did 97 lbs. For the first time in my life I felt like everything in my life was great. I finally had the self confidence to go out and meet people my own age, this was my downfall.
   I met a great guy named let's call him Fred, who I actually think I loved, and he introduced me to his friends "Mary" and "Al" we hung out they seemed really cool. they took me to all the best clubs in town, Mary taught me how to hit on guys and how to dress, it was like I had discovered a whole new me-I had. Then one day about a month into us meeting they came over before I had to work and were talking to me in my bathroom while I got ready for work, now I knew they smoked pot but I thought that was all. All of a sudden Mary produced a glass pipe and a tiny bag- METH! I had no idea what it was, it's amazing that it is such a huge problem and until I found my own need for it I nevere knew it existed. Mary and Al assured me it was harmless that it would give me energy. As a mother of a young son, and someone who worked 40 hrs a wk and attended school I was always tired and caffeine pills never worked for me. Mary said that she had done research and not to worry because she would never put anything that bad in her body, now thinking back on that I want to laugh and cry at the same time I was so naive. So I did it... and it was wonderful I couldn't even explain it... to feel alive and awake for the first time in years. We said that it was only going to be a weekend thing.... And it stayed that way for 2 weeks, then me and Mary started sneaking out at night without Al and buying. I remember the day that I bought my first piece-I was getting sick of using lightbulbs-I had to be so non-chalant, like no one knew what we were using the "oil burners" for. It didn't take long after that...once a night,twice a day, until every moment I got I was in my bathroom, scraping that bowl trying to get something, all the while my son who was only 5 was wondering what he had done wrong, why I was never around anymore. While I was using I discovered that my baby brother was addicted to ice too and at first it was like bonding, and then he became paranoid and delusional. He would scream and cry and beg for me to smoke with him, he would think that people were out to murder him... Finally one day I quit. I know that seems odd and people always look at me odd at the meetings when I share... I still remember that day November 7, 2003. I was going out of my mind because I needed to get high... I had just gotten paid and I was already overdrawn $780, I broke down crying because all these months I had been spending all my money, more than I had, on my habit my mom had been taking care of my son. Feeding him, paying for him to go places, and this week all she wanted was some money for milk and I didn't even have that to give her. I took my pipe and I rolled it up in a towel and I smashed it. I though that recovery would be a snap, I mean I'm a strong person and it was only a drug right? Wrong.
   Being sober made me realize how much I had truly fu**ed up my life. I had to suffer all the repercussions of my actions and there was no one to blame but myself. I lost my job, I lost my good looks, my car got repo'd.. I lost everthing but my son. I thought give it a few months and then it will all come back. What hurt the most was the memory loss. This drug had eaten away my brain and I had never noticed. My knowledge, my love for learning had always been a constant in my life and now I couldn't even remember a phone number. Sobriety was also hard because my brother was still tweaking and my mother wouldn't do anything about it. He would say- Mom I have been clean for 2 days and she would believe him. But in the end- in the here and now I realize I am just a stronger person than he is.
   I knew that I had to get out of CA, I lived on a street called meth row, and when your sober you can pick out the tweakers a mile away and it just made me crave it more. So we moved to OR...To Methford (Medford) But I'm strong...We have been here 2 yrs... In November I will have 3 years clean and I think that I am almost done paying back Karma, what I mean by that is when I got clean all this horrible stuff happened to me, just when I thought I had gotten my head abve water another wave of sh*t would come crashing down and I finally realized that Karma was now coming after me. That everything that happened to me was just a small dent sompared to what I did to others when I was high. and I always wonder when my debt will be paid, when I will get my clean slate but I just have to have faith. God brought me here for a reason, everything I am going through is for a reason. Sadly my brother is not as fortunate, 4 years later he is still an addict, a homeless man in CA, and still won't admit he has a problem. But I have realized that I cannot help him...He has to help himself and it won't happen until he is ready, I can only worry about myself and my son. To all those out there trying... or thinking about taking that first step....It isn't easy, you will be tested often, and it may feel at times like you have lost everything in the world but it is worth it....
  A JOURNEY OF A THOUSAND STEPS BEGINS WITH ONE....
--Anonymous in S. Medford, OR

Reflections VI
   I last left off with "Her nose began to trouble her--I interject here to say that once we started doing ice I told her I would not hit the pipe with her, that I’d only do a hot rail at most, and she’d have to live with snorting it--so this was her way of moving into the pipe phase again. And, after days and days and days and dammit days! of hearing her honk her nose (which became an obsession with her) I was open to allowing her to smoke again. And with that she bought a pipe; I opened the door to hell, and she never looked back. And we were only to late July. The summer continues and the relationship ends and the usage boils over in the next-to-last installment of Reflections coming next month."
   Her-"It is those birds again, the new-day birds. Do you hear them?"
   Me-"I do, every morning the birds call the sunrise. Come look at it, it is beautiful." And it was gorgeous, in our high-positioned townhouse the view of the breaking morning colors swept across the low-lying landscape and for a brief, colorful moment I could hope or imagine that this day would be different.
   Her-"Get away from the window! Have you gone crazy? They can see you!"
   Me-"Who?"
   Her-"Oh, F you, you know they can see you." I had no idea who could see me...or even if I could be seen from my perched angle way up on the hill...but she didn't like it one bit. She didn't like anything these days. Not the noises she heard coming from downstairs, or the shadows outside, or the way I walked...like I was creeping or concealing something...or the phone calls or anything. She just wanted to sit in bed and smoke the pipe and worry about the evil imagined sounds in her mind. And all I could do was watch.
   Oh, I tried to talk to her, reassure her that it was nothing. We'd walk downstairs and move from room to room, me turning on lights and opening closed doors. I'd let her come with me when I went to get a beer, change the cd, hit the pisser, so she wouldn't worry or get edgy. We'd hit some green, given as a gift from a close friend, to down the jitters. But nothing worked. She got more paranoid and my words were meaningless; moreover, my actions and presence itself was cautionary, distrustful, questionable. Me-her fiance and partner in all of this icy journey: She no longer recognized me.
   Then, money being tight, she began to ask the lackey of the big dealer guy to come by her work, get free drinks, butter him up. All the while I continued to watch the kids, feed them and teach them and take them outside for fun. We created the Hiking Club and would wear boots, take a bottle of water, and each of us carried a stick to ward off the dreaded spider webs. We'd hike around the sparse woods on the hilltop surrounding our townhouse. Our explorations usually found discarded trash, a rare-looking bug, some shiny rock; it was the innocence of these activities and the unconcerned belief in me, compiled with the escalating demise of my fiance, that led me back to reality. All the while she continued her downward ways. The hurt of her siding with the dealer's goon chaffed. The lack of care for me or our effort stung. The accusations and insults enraged me. But the continued loss of our family's money, the late hours away, the distance...that is what killed us and our attempt at a very wonderful dream.
   The kids could sense it, they gravitated to me. It wasn't sudden or striking, but they knew that I was making the meals, bathing them, taking the boy to pre-k, taking the girl to the playgrounds or giving her stuff to do like art or games, telling them to clean their rooms, breaking up the squabbles. Where was mom? Mom was holed up in the bedroom or the bathroom smoking hell in white vapors out of a pipe, hearing crazy shit, thinking mean things, and constantly mad at me, the one the kids were clinging to for sanity. Asleep in their beds, angelic, unbothered by this hurt and ruin and safe in their kid dreams, the real shit would hit the fan. That's when she would emerge or arrive home, either from work or elsewhere or both.
Her-"What have you been doing?"
Me-"Nothing, waiting for you to get home."
Her-"Drinking? Wasting your life? Looking for a job, ha!"
Me-"Taking care of the kids, cleaning up..."
Her-"Well, he's coming by in a minute and..."
Me-"WAIT! He's coming over here now?! I told you that nights are our time, that it isn't good for the kids or the neighbors, and that no one can use this place as a point to sell or crash. We agreed."
Her-"He'll be here in a minute."
   And, sure enough, he came over. He said he'd only stay a minute, sensing the tension. He stayed a week. The kids asked, "Who's that on the couch (their couch)?" And I'd say, "Oh, he's just staying for a couple of days." "Well, he's on our couch." Better than my bed, I'd think...but I was never sure. I'd say, "Yeah...he still is, isn't he? Let's go for a hike." On day 7 I had enough. I was ignored, disregarded, stepped over, unappreciated or even hardly noticed. And it built inside of me to a crescendo that burst forth in a crazy, unbridled shitstorm. She took off with her other ice-head friends, cursing me and calling me cuckoo, and rolled off into the night. For the first time in a week, I had the townhouse back. I looked at the mess, the destruction. The kids had gone to stay at their dad's for the weekend and I just didn't have it in me to clean up, to straighten up, to do dishes or this or that. I sat and thought. I pondered and realized that this was already over, ice or not, and it infuriated me. I had no way to fix this mess.
   The next day she returns home. I ask no questions. We go and pick up the kids from their dad's house, me driving and her looking gloomy but no words. When the kids get in the car she's a new person. Her-"Today we're going to get mommy's driver's license back." Me-"We are?" Her-"Yes kids, we are." I pointed the car in that direction. I stopped for cigarettes, gas, and a beer. Something was under my surface about to burst. We arrive at the DMV and sit for about an hour only to have her return red-faced and entirely agitated. Me-"So...did you get it?" Her-"Hell NO! Those a**holes!" Me-"Ok...well let's head on home." Her-"Don't tell me what to do!" It was a heavy walk to the car. Suddenly she asked for the keys. Me-"What? They, the fing DMV, just told you that you aren't allowed to drive." Her-"It is MY car and I'll drive it. Besides you are drunk." Me-"No, look I'm fine. Let's just go home." Her-"F**K YOU, give me MY KEYSSSSSSSSS!"
   And that was it. That was the breaking point. I was in flip-flops, wearing my trucker hat with unkempt hair that hadn't been cut in months or washed in days. I had on dirty jeans and an old t-shirt. I had $22 to my name, a cell phone, a half pack of smokes, and a fading lighter. I threw her the keys and started walking. I had no idea in this wide universe where in the hell I was going, except that I was going opposite of her and this bullshit. My phone incessantly rang, my cigarettes were harsh and biting, my lighter quit after the first 5 smokes, and my feet began to burn from the rubbing of my worn flip-flops. I had probably covered two miles, two insane miles of her driving by slowly and yelling things at me out of the window while the white, fearful faces of the children looked on from the backseat windows and wondered about me, and most likely mourned my departure in the only way their young minds could comprehend-"he's not coming back, is he mom?". Then traffic would force her to haul-ass off into the short distance to turn around and repeat the process all over again. In all I walked 6 miles back to the townhouse, walked in and started packing my stuff, and called my mom. Nothing but hate and fury met me, no sense of loss from her, no sense of ending, no sense of remorse. My aunt, on her way into town had to pass the place, stopped and separated us from a near physical confrontation and let me load my stuff into her truck.
   I had called the kid's dad while walking and he had picked them up so they fortunately missed the fiery ending. But I never got to say goodbye to them, to let them know how much I cared for them, or to wish them well in their lives after my exit. I arrived at my mom's place a wreck. I bought 2 packs of cheap smokes and a 6er of crappy beer. I was into my third by the time we pulled into my familiar, childhood home's driveway. And when I saw my mom I cried like the loser I was...or could still be. And she cried too as she looked at the torn, beaten wreckage of her lost son. In the last installment I will write about life after this tragedy, restarting, and what life is like after, and beyond, the influence and pull of ice. This is called Reflections. I can't say my whole story at once, I just can't. I'll write to this Letters page from time to time and try to tell it all for those that keep up; just look for Reflections in the heading. I do want to say that I've made it out, barely. And I will never lie or embellish my story; all of it is true including my name. And all the other names of f-ups will be true as well. Please tune in, I won't keep you waiting long.
--m

ive got a great one for you!
   i was just going thru a divorce, and i had done crank before and walked away from it with no problem, probably had been clean about a year after having a horrible car wreck cuz i had been up for a week and fell asleep at the wheel, i felt like that was GOD'S way of turning me around, i hada great job and was gettin into good shape the good ole fashioned way and then i met the loveo f my life, he was from california andi lived in texas, well we spent every day together as soon as we met, man the sex was tthe best i had ever had in mylife, iwas 28 then and he was 38, so ithought to myself this guy is superman, he can go all n ight long and then go to work, i got the right one i thought tomyself,but like a dumbass ididnt even thnk he would be doing the shit, he looked like the most upstanding personi had ever met, and mind you that would take a lot my brother is a cop and my other brother is a navy seal, soi have been around some really upstanding people, so we stayed together for a year and during that year i though man i need to do some shit just so i can keep up this way of life and meanwhile he had gottenfired from his job for not passing a drug screen and he told me a totally differnt story and i believed him, so we were struggling big tme, i went back to bartending and he went to subcontracting with a guy who was also a drug dealer, go figure!!! so here i was hiding my shit inour tiny little house in the icebox and he was hiding his shit in the bathroom somewhere and i dont know how it happend but we both found out we were doing it, so man that was cool, we were really meant for each other!! well time went on like that for awhile and then he started staying out late and being with other girls which i wouldnt find out till we were married, so i pretty much quit and said screw i t i hate the way it makes me feel and i started gettin real sick from it, so we got married, but before that hestarted being weird a nd hateful and very mean when he didnt have his shit, when he is on it he is the nicest guy in thewhole world, but after we got married things started to change, i was not on it but he would make mego get it for him so for about two years we spent like 500.00 a month on drugs for him, and then in 2000 after a trip to california and after buying anew home and a new truck i got really sick, well that jan. after then, i was diagnosed with lupus and ablood disease, and i felt like i was dying, well like a dumbass i thought well im pretty much dying so im gonna do some shit and so ifelt good for about a m onth, anyway it is now july 2006, i have two almost grown boys who have gone onthis roller coaster ride, my husband is stilla junkie and is meaner than ever, no one knows he is on the shit, but he still makes me get it for him all the time and i hate it, i dont want to have anything to do with it, i havent dont it since 2001 and wont ever do it again, it is physically killing me cuz my husband is so hooked on it he is 48 and i dont k now what to do or where to go, i am on social security and he works a good job, but he ignores the fact of a the moneyw e spend on the shit, i need help very much or iwill end up paying the price for this mothe fucker to do drugs so if there is an angel out there please find me and help me cuz i cant helpmyself he has done this drug for over 20 years and i love him soo much but i cant live like this i need help very badly, leave your info i will get intouch with you please someone help me!
--tnt

   HI, My name is Brian in july 2005 my wife and I split up in PA. and she took the advice of one of her freinds www.bagladysue.com to move to colorado well that was the worst mistake she lived with her and moved out soon to come when she started to strip at a club .Hooked up with bad people that was making that ice using her as a mule to get ingrediants from the stores to make and use .I flew to there in august of 05 for 4 days trying to provoke her to come home because I knew there was something wrong well that idea flopped just another heartbreak for me while she continued the life of evil due to the drug,It is amazing what grip of that particalar drug has on her soul . I was so concerned about her it was taking a tole out on me ,When I flew west to see her I knew something was not right and ice was the last thing on my mind that I thought was wrong (she was in the grip of the demons).Well she was dating a drug maker Chad(dirtbag) Richardson could have been a alias that was the supplier that had a meth lab in were they lived and it traveled when they thought they felt the heat ,I tried to fly back there in september of 2005 but she did not want me to come back I allready ordered a ticket from www.orbitz.com to go well that ticket went to waste never made it ,I was working as a auto glass installer at the time for 9 years. Down the road I gave up on hope of her coming back home so I dug into my savings account and took out 5,500 dollars and bought a mobile home 25 miles from were I grew up everybody was happy for me including my wife .Down the road I even paid 2,800 dollars for siding really fixed it up well, I started to get phone calls from her again she was real scared and did not sound like the person that I knew .I found out that she had been beat up several time by Chad and felt trapped dont know if there was any forced prostitution going on and dont want to know but always curious.So one day as I was watching cops on fox in november so ironic of this she called up on my cell phone telling me in a panic state of mind that she was coming home so I thought <Huh>in a shocked manor as I was getting on with my life so I asked her how much money do you have she said 16.00 dollars I said you cant get out of colorado for that much so I wired her through the internet western union 200.00 dollars to come home it took 1 day but she made it all skin and bones . She said all she would eat is popcorn when she was there in colorado that was all they had .I will never forget the second day when she went to wal-mart with me I left her by her self and she started to freak out in a scared rage like sombody was going to get her,She started to buy different items at wal-mart I never paid any mind to it but it was the same indrediants that they used in colorado to make the drug she was using .Well long story short I have been pulled into it trying to make the drug did not know that it was illeagal to do, (Come on who would thought that you could make speed from wal-mart)?Well we tried a few times even ordered the chemicals online to do it from a d.e.a. site www.know3.com that was a mistake I also used the chemical to make fireworks but i will get to that in a little,Anyway what I bought from the store and her cooking did not work what a big waste of money it would have been cheaper to go to somewere else just to buy the drug but I dont know anything about this drug I grew up in neighborhoods that had coke or weed so I told her I am not buying the stuff anymore to expensive to make so I continue work daytime making a record high of 38,000 dollars that year and she would be making the drug on her time while I was working in her spare time when she wanted ,But I did not know untill one day I was in the area doing work and I stoped into say hello I busted her cooking that shit I gathered up all chemicals hid them and she had took some out before that just in case that ever happened so the cooking went on without my knowledge .Well the dea got word from ordering the chemical that was involved in this and they started to do trash pulls and found empty items connected with the drug so they obtained a search warrrant and on 7/22/05 they busted in my door took some of my belonging and my life was flipped upside down on that day. I lost my career job got evected from trailer park had to move trailer 4,000 dollars lived in a motel for a week making 4.63 an hour less with a differn't job and working graveyard shift and also going through the federal courts right now with a guilty plea with no other option at this present time .So my last line is I love my wife but not what she brought back to me all I tried to do is help her could not leave her in colorado they would have killed her if not the drug would of . Should have listend to co workers on old job she is going to take you down but i said no way not me wrong?Yes But I see myself as a victim and a hero for saving from colorado , But I am a proven example...So don't be a fool and screw around with meth od try to make it You will hurt yourself in the long run and many people around you because it is a uncontrolable drug after the first try.. P.S> Just look at my wife could of been worse like death, It is a dead end don't go there!
--Brian

Hello. I wanted to write with words of encouragement for the families effected by loved ones addicted to meth. I visited your website to read others stories while my daughter was abusing meth, and was deeply saddened by all the many different stories. Having experienced this myself first hand, I could relate to how they feel. One thing I learned while going through this horrible, horrible experience, is that other people who have not experienced the same thing have no idea just how helpless the situation can make you feel.
   My daughter, who has two little children, was addicted to meth for over a year. Every day it was a challenge just to get out of bed and face whatever I might have to face that day (and each day there seemed to be something different). I was so distraught during this time period, I cannot put in to words. My heart was broken, for both my daughter, and her children. It was a burden I carried with me every day and it effected every moment of my life.
   I am overjoyed to report that my daughter is clean and has not used meth in 7 months.
   The answer for me was prayer and faith. I believe with all my heart my prayers were answered and her stopping was nothing short of a miracle. I began to realize if the situation was going to turn around it was going to be because God took over. Every day I would get on my knees and pray that God would touch my daughter and change her life, without something tragic having to happen to make her see the light. And, although it was very hard, I believed that God would answer my prayer.
   God has answered my prayers and my daughter is doing well - and without a recovery program. When she "crashed" for the last time (and she told me it was the last) I let her "sleep it off", which took several days, and kept her children for her. Since then I have supported and believed in her, and she is coming along very nicely (one day at a time). It took some time for her to "get back to normal"; but she is now back to her old self, and is trying every day to make a better life.
   Miracles still happen. Believe. There IS hope. My prayers go out to all. Thank you.
--J

   I'm your text book addict. I come stright from the pages of "what does an addict look like?" I started using meth at the age of 19. Heavily. I dropped so much weight that my family thought I had cancer. No joke. When I turned 20 I meet and fell in love with a dope cook. He moved in with me and so began a year of constent abuse, torture and meth use. I had a son who was around one at the time. I can not begin to tell you the things this young boy witnessed and enduered. I only pray that he was too young to ever remember. I finally got away from the so called boy friend, but only because he went to prison. He finally beat me so bad one day while he was comming down that the police got called and guess what they found, a meth lab. Luckily the guy stood up and took credit for all the shit in the house and the cops let me be. I went to rehab for the first time when I was 22. I left on the so called pink cloud. I drank alcohol and messed around with pills on and off for the next five years. The weird thing is I never not knew I was an addict. I just didn't accept it. Anyhow I got a job a treatment center for women and even interned at drug court for a while. All trying to stay away from the dope. For me alcohol leads to dope so I struggled to stay away from it too. I managed to stay away from meth for 6 years...and then one day for no reason at all I did it again. The first time I used Meth again was in March of 2005. By April I was using on a daily basis and by June had gone from snorting to shooting it. In July of 2005 I was arrested along with my boyfriend on 4 felony charges all drug related. To tell you the horror of what the next 6 to 8 months was like would be near in impossible. I managed to lose everying. My children, home, car, everything. After spending over a month in jail for the first time in my life I finally made bond. Only when I went to my home it had been cleaned out. Everything down to the razors I shaved with. They took everything. My boyfreind and I bounced from place to place. Not really having a place to go or any money. We always had plenty of dope. If I look back at it now I shake my head at the crazy idea of being homeless without my children yet always high. I'm saddened by all of this. At times it is truly unbearable. I barely manage to make it to the bathroom at times because it makes me so sick to my stomach. Being so out of control. So out there that I didn't care that my kids, my family, my friends were all gone. I managed to stay out of jail until Jan 2 of 06. When I got picked up I was at a rehab, my boyfriend and I both were. With warrants for failure to appears I was arrested and taken back to county jail were I stayed unitl May of this year. I was lucky cause some of my charges got dropped. I'm currently out of jail, on probabtion for five years. I've managed to stay sober not thru anything but the grace of God. I struggle with everything some days and nothing on others. I find myself crying at times for no reason, laughing at the wrong times, and anger is an issue. I'm alive, I am sober, I am rebuilding my life. I have been given more then my fair share of chances. I believe that God much believe I am a good person because He never gave up on me even when I gave up on myself. I'm not gonna sit here and tell you that I don't want to get high, or I don't think about it cause I do. Some days not at all and somedays all the time. But I have not got high. I have a job, a place to live, I get to see my kids, and my family is starting to talk to me again. Yet I know it all hangs so very close to the edge. An edge which if i step off of I will surely die. Some people have lots of relapses in them. Some only a few. I have no more. Meth destroyed my life not once but twice. I am scared, so damn scared.
--Robyn

Deep down inside people care
   They care about your pain and your misery.
   They care about how that person treated you last night.But not-so-deep down inside, they have put up a wall of fear and pride. They might shun you and look at you funny for looking the way you do, but deep down inside they care. They care because to them you are a son, a daughter, mother or father. Your not just another face that blends in with a crowd. They know your face, they were there looking down on you when you were born. They taught you how to ride a bike without the training wheels. They were there to hear your first word, your first kiss. They were there. They still love you. Its not too late.
--anonymous

   HI. I started smoking meth when I was 17, I'm 22 now, and if you were close to me you would have known that I hated everything about that drug up until the day I first used. I first found out about meth through a personal matter when I was 15. My older sister lost everything she owned because of her addiction to meth and moved in with us to go sober and get back on her feet. Long story short, for 2 years she manipulated us, betrayed us, neglected her son, broke every promise she made and exposed me to a lifestyle I had no respect for. Never had I even seen this krap, or knew how she used it or what it smelt like, I swore up and down I would never come near it, touch it, look at it...uuugggghhh just thinking of my dope headed sister made me kringe. Of course I was Ignorant and now realized how critical it was for me to be there for her rather than be embarrassed to call her my sister. Let me tell you the day I decided to use I believed with all my Ignorance that it would only be that one time so I would stay awake to study and no one will ever find out. WHY? WHY? WHY? I said just that ONE time, but I couldn't believe that this was the drug that turned my sister into a sucked up, dead looking, broke ass dope whore. No way! This stuff was perfect to get me amped and ready to handle any task the world had to give me. Not even knowing that if anyone would find out, I would be such a hypocrite to not only my family and friends, but to my sister. The only person that knew I used was my connect, and I convinced myself that no one would ever find out. I actually remember for a while I would tell myself that I wasn't addicted, that I was abusing the drug and that I don't use it because I fiend for it, but because I like it. DUH YA DUMB B*TCH! I managed to come to my senses before I turned 20 and shot for some clean time and I got it, along with a fiance and getting pregnant. If it wasn't for my pregnancy I probably would have convinced myself that I could use again without letting it control me. I say that because that was the first thing I did when my son was only 4 weeks old. I justified relapsing with my Father's illness and my Mother not being able to help me with the baby. But I didn't tell anyone but my fiance. He had over a yr clean time and I didn't care. I was so selfish to manipulate him that this was what I needed to help me, and never once did I care to think how hard it was for him to go pick it up for me and not get tempted. I didn't care, I didn't know the real struggle yet and before I know it we both started using and no one would have seen it comming. My father passed away shortly after I relapsed and I medicated myself daily, I lost count of how many times a day I used. I just knew I couldn't let anyone know and I didn't want to try going clean because then I would have to face the reality of losing my Dad when I just gave birth to my first son and that he would never get to walk his baby girl down the isle to be married. I lost it. I ended up in the psych ward, hurting myself, trying to kill myself, my engagement broken and the guilt of dissapointing my entire family after losing our Father. I had it, around the time of my Father's 1yr anniversary, I knew if I wouldn't try harder now, I'll never even get a chance to try again. Since then I was in and out of drug counseling, therapy, relapsing all over the place until finally one day I looked at my son and I didn't want him to suffer because of me. I need to be protecting him, guiding him, loving every moment I share with him and thank the Lord for giving me this gift of his unconditional love through my son. I do it for myself, and I feel so proud to say that because I never wanted to do it for me. If it was up to me I would use until the day I died. But God gave me a reason to apreciate the life that he chose for me, now I need to work hard to recieve his blessings. So for the first time ever I was sober for 4 weeks straight, but unfortunately I relapsed. I went clean for another 2 weeks, but here I am again. I know I want to beat this, but it has taken all the strength I once had, and how I yearn to feel control over myself. I want to be able to discipline myself and be proud not to use. Rather than bored not using. It's a sorry struggle but I don't want a life dictated by addiction. I want me back.
--CM

I don't ever have to live that way again!
   I just wanted to share my story in the hopes that someone who is still using will see that there is a way to stop the insanity of meth use. I am one of the lucky ones. Most of my so called friends that I used with are either still out there doing what ever it takes to get their next high, or they are dead, or the lucky ones, like me, got arrested.
   I began using like so many people do when I was working three jobs and thinking the speed would help me to endure the difficult schedule. Maybe it did for a short time but it didn't take long before I was using to work, and working to use. I was a dissapointment to my son because I was not available to him when he needed me or if I was around I was so busy trying to stay high that you couldn't really say we were spending quality time together. My fiance finally found out what I was doing and tried to stick it out with me while I promised to quit but couldn't. And eventually she broke it off with me. Somehow I managed to keep working and barely staying ahead of the bill collectors. But my life had become meaningless and the only people who would have anything to do with me were fellow meth heads
   It got to the point where I didn't care about much of anything anymore except getting high. So I ended up staying with my dealer/girlfriend most of the time to insure I had a steady supply of meth.
   I was on my way to her house one night when I drove right into a drug raid that was going on at her home. Of coarse I had a pocketful of ice on me at the time so I went to jail along with everyone who was there. It was the first offense for me and somehow I had a moment of clarity I guess and thought to myself, "Well this is what I have to look forward to if I continue living this way". I knew I had to change or end up a repeat offender if I didn't die first.
   My lawyer told me about a program for first time offenders called drug court. He said it wasn't easy but if I did everything that was required in 18 months the charges would be dropped. So I entered the program 14 months ago and my life has never been better. The first thing I had to do was cut all ties with the people I used with, especially the dealer/girlfriend. I go to alot of NA and AA meetings and I have learned so much about myself and how to live life without drugs and alcohol. I have met some of the most loving and caring people a person would ever want to meet. My son and I have a good relationship again. After a long time apart I have reunited with my fiance and our love for each other is stronger than it has ever been. We hope to be married in the fall after I graduate from drug court. I am one of the lucky ones. I went to jail. But I also realized that I had to change or I would stay in jail or die.
   The girlfriend/dealer decided to fight her case in court. She got a reduced charge and probation. Two months ago she was arrested again for selling meth and a string of other charges and is back in jail with no bond.
   Thank you God for having me arrested and introducing me to the twelve steps. I don't ever have to live that way again!
--GETS

   I first started using at the age of 12 and am now 48. So,how does it get to be this wild and this farther down the road and I still use it if it's around at all.
   I've lost it all. I mean all! I no longer have control of my own life, I have friends that would not trust me as far as they can see me. My children don't want to know me 'cause their own Mom died behind that shit. So what can I do but try to get people younger than me to wake up and see where it can all end.
   At certain points I did so much in one shot that I came so close to killing myself and now,at my age my old body just won't bounce back like it use to. Back when I was in my 20's or 30's.
   And, god knows, we've all done a lot of things that were not just weird, but, they were out on the edge of an extreme. Mentally, sexually and physically.
   So, where does it end. When a man almost 50 still cant' control that erge to twist off and do a half a gram shot to get the old head where it's used to being. Man, I miss that old prop dope, where a 25 cent bag could make my hair stand up and I'd be gone for at least 72 hours. And that was back before, each time now, its a fight to stave off those damn voices in my head that make me think I'm being watched and followed at every turn. I'd say that the fun went out of the high and now the drugs are doin' me.
   But still, if it comes around I'm totally out of control to stop myself from doing enough to keep me up at least two days and nights. Will it ever end or will it only end when I've tripped that fine line and ended up on the other side, where all those voice's come from as we do a hellatiouse blast. Dead dopers from the other side, trying to tell us to back off.\
---Mickey

Meth survivor
   A former user, I have been totally meth-free for 4 years. I wanted to start my letter out with that to give hope to those contemplating whether they should, or could, quit using. It can happen, but it starts with you! I started using meth when I was 20. My boyfriend's best friend had been killed in a horrible accident at work. His wife was distraught and showed up in the town we lived in with this drug I'd never heard of -- crystal meth. I didn't know what it would do to me and the only drug I had ever tried was pot. So I tried it. I think we stayed up for about 3 days and I felt great. We became weekend tweekers--about 5 of us. Then our circle grew bigger and we started doing it more often. I was so young and didn't know what I was doing, plus I had a job and everything else in my life was great. Then we moved back to our hometown and kept up the same routine--weekend tweekers--even though I landed a really great job. When I became pregnant with my first child, I stopped immediately. I stopped smoking and everything. Two weeks after my son was born, I found myself snorting up a huge line of meth on a glass coffee table at a friend's house. The weekend tweeking went on for over a year, and during that time, I lost a really good job as a writer. I was devastated and became severely depressed for a while. After a few months of depression, it was back to the meth. We would party all weekend, then I would go to school and my boyfriend would go to work on Monday. But the meth came between us, and after he got laid off from a seasonal job, he started using way too much. I left him, and he became a meth dealer, partly because he was mad at me for leaving and partly because he was addicted to the meth -- and the money. For the next year I traveled around with him selling his stuff and picking it up at various places. It was hell. I saw things that I wish I would have never seen. We came home one night after scoring and I opened the bathroom door and saw one of our "meth friends" in MY bathroom shooting up. There was blood on the ceiling and he was wacked out of his mind. I threw him out, just so I could snort some more meth. Binges varied from 3 to 10 days at a time...not really knowing where I was or who had been there. Seeing one of my good friends steal my boyfriend just because she knew where to get the good stuff. I was also trying to take care of our son during all this, but what I was really doing was pawning him off on grandma for 3 or 4 days at a time. It was a hell that I wish I wouldn't have been a part of, but it made me learn to be a better person. When we decided to get clean and be "normal" again, the government got involved and sued us for child neglect. I knew that was serious and left town to clean up and try to live a better life. Soon my boyfriend followed and for six long, hellish months, we endured each other to become sober. After that, we moved out of state and I became pregnant again, having another beautiful, healthy and drug free child. Eventually, we missed one of our court dates, although not due to drugs, and our oldest child was temporarily placed in my brother's custody. It broke my heart to let him go for two months, but since we were clean and sober, and had a once again perfect life, I was willing to do whatever it took to prove that to the system and get my child back. It worked, and I haven't touched the stuff since then. Of course my boyfriend, now my husband, has tried it here and there over the past 6 years, I have always scolded him -- on the verge of kicking him out -- and he has always came back to "normal." There is a way out, but it starts with you. I'm 32 years old now with two sons age 5 and 9. My oldest son says I'm the greatest mom in the world, but he never forgets when I wasn't. I never tried to hide anything from him about what was going on in our lives, and he was very mature for his age, probably because of that. Even though it was traumatic to him, he knows the consequences of what doing drugs are, and I think he will take that into his adult life. At least I hope. Oh yeah, I have a great job again as a writer, a new car, a nice house, and a wonderful family who loves and supports me. They loved and supported me when I was messed up too, but now they are proud of me. I'm doing so well now that I am pursuing my dream of being a singer and was honored at a recent competition that will be televised. That statement will probably give me away, but I'm proud of who I have become. I have seen my friends go down the tubes and pleaded with them to stop, but some people get so far in they can't get out. If you're thinking about trying meth -- DON'T!!!!! If you're trying to get out of the meth circle, ask your family and your "straight" friends to help you. Stay away from dealers and your meth friends and look at yourself in the mirror everyday, knowing that you are a better person and live that way too.
--LL

   I put a story on this website close to a year and a half ago when my fiancé and I were in a completely different place then we are now. Then I was encouraging family members and loved ones to have hope and to know that it can be fixed, the dope fiends can be helped. Now…I’m not so sure. My fiancé just relapsed two months ago after being clean for almost two years. His dad called me one morning and said that my fiancé was sleeping through his alarm and he couldn’t wake him up to go to work. I immediately panicked, it hit me like a flashback of when we first got together and I couldn’t wake him up to drive me home…It was like he was dead. I jumped in my car and drove over there right away and saw him sleeping under his covers, I rushed to the bed and pulled the covers only to see three scabs on his face! It sucks to be so helpless against something so much stronger than your own love. I guess I should be thankful that he’s a picker or I would probably be so blinded by my love for him I would have never known still. He’s gotten to that point now where he’s just an emotional rollercoaster and he’s just crying all the time and he says its cause he hates himself for doing it again. He says he feels lost and empty, if only addicts knew that’s exactly how they make the people who love them feel too. He has lost his job, has gotten kicked out of his house, and has warrants for violating probation because he refuses to go in and pee in the fuckn cup all in two months. I feel confused, heartbroken, betrayed, lost, and dead inside. He has been my entire life for so long I don’t know how to live without him but I know I have to because the next time he gets clean and gives me hope and then relapses I wont be capable of dealing with it because it is emotionally draining and exhausting. I am at a loss and need help.
--Hopeless-

   Hey there, my name is Brian and i too was a victom to the drug. i haved one five years in prison because of it, and the sad part about that is im only twenty three years old. less than ten years ago i was what a lot of people consider an "alter boy", i graduated from a christian accademy, got married young, had my own buisness, home...ect. and needed some fast cash. I started manufacturing meth, and before long i was addicted to my own product.needless to say i lost everything that i had worked so hard for. And later my wife (while pregnant) died to a meth related insodent and for years now I have blamed myself for that. have you ever told yourself "that wont happen to me"? well, guess what...so did i! i was released from the new mexico department of corrections less than a year ago and have come to realize that i didnt hit rock bottom after all! and the day an addict hits rock bottom is the day that person gets put in their grave... so, if you are an addict reading this message please remember two things...your never alone, and its never too late.
--brian

A letter to Kenny
Dear Kenny,
   I haven't the foggiest notion as to why you have done what you have done. There are consequences to all our actions in life. I am suffering from the consequences of allowing myself to get close to you again. I don't know what I could have possibly done for you to treat me in such a manner. I don't deserve this. You must have known that this was going to be very painful for me. It took me a very long time to resolve my feelings for you. I haven't been with anyone since you. I have been very lonely but at least I was somewhat content with my life. If all you wanted was someone to use for a little while, could you not have picked someone who had no feelings for you? I know you have had alot to deal with over the past years. And the loss of your daughter is devastating, but Kenny this does not give you the right to hurt other people. And even less those that had no contributions to your present situation. The "why" you have done this to me is driving me insane. I keep trying to figure out what did I do wrong? Should I have asked more about your situation, should I have offered money, help, a place to sleep, hell I just don't know!
   I really have feelings for you. I care about you. Hell, lets just face it, I love you. I am pretty sure you know this. If you were not serious about seeing me again you should have just left me alone. I didn't want anything from you. I didn't seek you out. I didn't call you. I left you alone, because I thought that is what you wanted. This is a very, very cruel thing you have done. I know your in some sort of trouble. Since I don't read minds I don't know the extent of your problems. But let me see if I can guess.
   Here is what I am getting told.
   That what I am really looking at here is someone who is on "the sh.t" as I am to understand it is refered to. I think we both know what I am talking about. And this is not the "occasional" use you professed to. That you are homeless, no job. You have lost most if not all of your friends. In short Kenny you are a broken man. I pretty much could figure this out on my own. But I was still willing to take that chance with you. In case you don't know it, you were a broken man years before you and I got involved with one another.
   You know the really sad part to this? Is I am hoping you are on "the sh.t" and this is the reason for your behavior. I have to almost believe this so as not to believe that you think so little of me. My heart is broken, my self esteem in the crapper, my dignity crushed, and I don't think I could ever trust anyone again. I didn't deserve this. I am a good kind person. I try to treat everyone the way I want to be treated. Hurting anyone intentionally is unacceptable and I stand up for the underdog and try to always do the right thing.
   Tell me this was not intentional. Tell me that this is not because you could care less about hurting me.
   And here is a hint at the way I look at life. So speaking of God....You know what they say? "God doesn't always give you what you Want, but he always gives you what you Need. Oh and then there is this one, "God, looks out for Drunks/druggies and Fools". I have to keep telling myself this over and over again. Regardless of how much I "poo-poo" believing, I do believe some sort of God is taking care of me. I believe God knows my heart and knows how truely vulnerable I am to the cruelty of the world. I think God is trying to take care of me. This belief and the belief you are on "the sh.t" is how I am getting through the days.
   It is my hope that you will finally grow up and look around you and decided you really want me in your life. I would have stood by you no matter what. At this point I just don't know what more to say. It is my hope you find your way back to us.
--To Thine Own-self Be True"

My story...the ugly side....
   I was 34 years old before I tried any kind of drug at all. The first drug I tried was speed (Meth). I didn't really like it. Suprised? Then I tried cocaine. Wow. I snorted it once, but when I saw the pleasure my husband got from shooting it, I joined right in. That was the beginning of a 4 year ordeal that I have never told anyone about. No one knows. My husband knows, because he's the one that introduced me. But none of my children know, my mother doesn't know, and my best friend doesn't know. How? Why not? Because I refused to let anyone see what was happening. We moved away from our hometown. When our cocaine supplier in our new town dried up, we turned to meth. I was losing weight. But let me turn you on to some ugly details that no one has mentioned in this forum as far as I have read. Meth addicts are sex addicts. My husband went from being a loving caring wonderful lover to wanting to share me with anyone and everyone. He didn't just want to share, he wanted to stand by and watch. He would talk about it endlessly, for hours and hours while he pleasured himself. He wouldn't even stop when he would see that he was rubbing sores on himself. He would watch the same prono over and over for days. He had affairs (if you count drug sex as an affair) with women and men. He contracted an infection ( not an incurable std thank GOD) from one guy and landed in the hospital for a week unable to move. The nurses tried to tell me what caused it but I wouldn't listen. I didn't want to think that my husband was a homosexual. He isn't, but the drug takes over and it's all about pleasure. The drug did not have that affect on me - THANK GOD. Sure it made me paranoid. I would swear there was someone in the bathroom with him, or hiding in the closet, or under the bed. I would hear moaning and talking when there wasn't any. I would sit for hours without moving just waiting for whoever it was to come out and then I could say I wasn't seeing things. I never caught anyone. Imagine that. I would pick at my face, scalp, legs...anything to pass the time. The house was a disaster, dirty clothes everywhere. Not a clean dish in the house. No food in the fridge. Oddly enough, I never entered the world of stealing to support my habit. I had my unemployment, my husbands intermittent jobs, and a weekly child support check. This stuff is notoriously cheap, so $100 would keep me awake for a week. My oldest daughter had gone to live with her father (for unrelated dramas) and my youngest daughter was spending a lot of time with my mother who lived closer to her school than we did. I would go a week, 10 days without seeing her. I would see her when we ran out of dope money, and I'd had a good 20 hours of sleep. She never guessed. She still doesn't know . I was able to pass off that time of my instability as severe depression. I even concocted a story about going to a therapist and fed my mother all sorts of information about manic depression. This was my excuse for hiding in the house for days (somtimes weeks) at a time. Then, one day, I had what amounts to a nervous breakdown. I cried for hours...afraid of everything, and finally fell asleep after being awake for 8 days. When I woke up I didn't know where I was. My husband (still my boyfriend at this time) and I decided it was time to clean up. We were quitting. We were moving home to start over and we were going to get married!! After that we'd try to have a baby. This was January of 2004. February 2004 I found out I was just barely pregnant. I took the test the day I was late because we wanted to buy some speed (how's that for quitting) and I was a day late and didn't want to take the chance. It was positive. We did well for the next 2 months. Then one day my husband came out of the bathroom and I knew he had some!! I immediately wanted it. The reaction I had was overpowering, causing me to need to go to the bathroom IMMEDIATELY...then I did it. I forgot about that sweet baby growing inside me and lost myself for the next 2 1/2 months in the disease that is addiction. Then, thankfully, we moved. We moved 1000 miles away, where we stayed clean until after the baby was born. Perfectly healthy no thanks to me. He's gorgeous. And smart. But 3 1/2 weeks after delivery, my husband brought some home. It was only weekends. ALL WEEKEND. When I started protesting because I wanted to quit because I was sick of all the crap that comes with it, the paranoia, the hallucinations, the being awake for days at a time, he would just not come home when he was doing it. That led to suspicions of what and who he was doing when he was doing it. He swears that he's been faithful since we got married. I want to believe him, and now that I've been clean for almost a year, I can see how devastating this whole experience has been. I am done with it. He is having a harder time quitting, but he's been doing this off and on for 10 years or more. You'd never know by looking at us. There are no physical scars except for the small circular scar on the inside of my elbow. I explain it away as a scar caused by donating plasma twice a week for a couple of years. We are clean, good looking people, we have a home, 2 cars and a truck, and I'm pregnant again. I'm not using, but I can tell you the physical craving is still there, especially when I know my husband has had some. I get mad when he comes home after being out all night, sometimes locked in a "private viewing booth" at the local porn shop. I have gone up there a couple of times and caused a scene until he is forced to leave. I want him to get help. Until he wants help though, there isn't any way to get him help. I will not go to our families. This is something I deal with silently because exposing him would mean exposing myself, and that I can't deal with. I couldn't bear to see the look on my children's faces. My oldest daughter is recovering herself. She called me when she was homeless and had been awake for almost 3 weeks. I brought her home, and she is now clean. If she ever knew what I'd done, what I've hidden and covered up, she'd never forgive me. But for now, with a new baby on the way, I'm hoping that he will find the inner strength to either ask for help, or just quit. It's not easy, and I would never say that it is. I had dreams about it for months...about shooting up and waiting for the rush, and when it wouldn't come, I'd wake up. That isn't the kind of life I want, or was brought up in. This drug (as any drug) does not discriminate. It will take you down. I'm just too much of a control freak (OCD sufferer) to let something have control over me. Please don't use my name when you post this. I am ashamed of this period in my life, and can see no good coming from telling people now that I have quit. It's an ugly drug, with nasty habits attached.
--AMG

   Hi my name is Timothy Foote and I'm......as I hesatate to find the word but I can hear it calling from the back of my mind....a addict. There I said it but for some reason I dont feel any better. I started doing meth about 3 years ago when I got a phone call from one of my brothers gay friends, Ricky. It started off as an innicent conversation asking where my brother was at; not knowing of his location Ricky invited me over to try some "TINA". Already having a addicating personality I said the words that would seal my fate forever "sure". Throught out the whole drive to his house I was trying to justafiy my actions by saying things like "my brother does it and he seems just fine,so I'm sure nothing serious will happen". Not knowing what I was doing Ricky lead me throught each step. My life changed the very second that pipe hitt my lips and I inhaled that first hitt of "sweet crystal". I found something that made me "FEEL" unstoppable. Its quite amazing that something that can make you feel like "GOD" can also make you feel the wrath of the devil. After a couple hours passed I felt like I got to know this new drug entrusting it with my deepest fears. Not wanting to go home feeling the way that I did I went on a few errons with my new friend, stopping at peoples houses and selling meth. Meeting these new people gave me a new sence of security that I've never felt before. As the day progressed I didnt give a care in the world to anything or anyone but my new friend Tina. I felt like I needed this everyday or I wouldnt be able to carry on. So I started avoiding my family and friends and started hanging around the "gay scene". I know that this story might be getting a little boring so I'm going to skip a few chapters in my life and start with the present. I havent found a way to beat this nasty addicition and I'm sitting here coming down from a three day high reading stories that are quite like mine. I felt this feeling that I once felt three years before. A sence of belonging. As I read on I started to understand that I'm not alone.....and with that I feel like maybe there is a way. I know that things wont change for me tomorrow or not even the next day but in time maybe sharing my stories with people who may or may not have experienced the true feeling of a "ADDICITION", you start to notice that your the one changing, not the people around you!!!! I WISH YOU ALL THE BEST OF LUCK AND I'LL SEE YOU ON THE OTHER SIDE!
--Timothy

   I have been clean for 2yrs and 5mos now and I thank God because he is the one who made me get clean. For a long time I didn't think I could do it because I hated the come down. But when I was ready I asked God to take the addiction from me because I didn't want to be the way I was anymore and he did! I gave my life to God and let him be in control and he put me back togerther and made me whole again. He made me a better person. He has given me so much and done so much in me, in just 2yrs. The most important thing is that he taught me how to have a relationship with him dailey not just when I needed him. So for any one that is struggling with addiction and don't think you can ever be different please don't listen to the lies from the devil anymore and surrender yourself to almighty God and ask him to help you and he will. God bless each and everyone of you, and remember that Jesus loves us and he takes us just as we are.
--Soph

   hi my name is moana. I have been reading all the stories in here and what an eyeopener! I am writing because i am concerned for my sister who i suspect is using p. She is my older sister by 4 years but youd think i was the older one! she has got 3 kids 1 of whom now lives with my parents because of behaviour problems that she cant be bothered dealing with. when i asked if she does do p she ript shit into me bigtime. ever since then things have changed, her attitude towards everything and anyone just not nice to be around really. she moved from my parents house that she was renting, moved out of town and i think she did so to hide away. shes found a new man that i know for a fact uses p so you dnt have to be an einstein to figure that one out aye.
   I find her really selfish and neglectful to her children, just worring about herself as always. i guess what im trying to say is i dnt know what to do in this situation? she is using to loose weight i know this because she is always asking have i lost weight and getting jealous of me cos i lost weight but the natural way of course.
    what can i do to help her im stuck even tho i am grudged at her for even using the shit she knows better than this!
   please if there is anyone who has advice can u email me at rochellejaxon@yahoo.co.au
--moana

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Resources for Teachers
Media/News Articles
Research Articles
Selling Houses - Laws