My Road to Recovery

By Courtney P. | Personal Narrative

 

I am a 21-year-old female with two children. I’ll never forget the first time I got the ‘first real high’. I was 15 years old. Just placed into DCF custody. I’d always hear those stories of people getting high, enjoying life, enjoying the high. Seemed like all fun and games. I had smoked pot many times before and didn’t give this next time a second thought, as I went to a party and smoked a bowl.

 

I didn’t notice anything different at first’ But then, I found myself still awake at 4 am wondering where my whole night went.. It couldn’t have gone by this fast. Could it? Throughout the day I realized I hadn’t slept. I went to work, and I hadn’t eaten.. What the hell is wrong with me? I was high for five days straight! I couldn’t move, couldn’t roll over in bed, I could barely speak. It wasn’t until days later that I found out this wasn’t my normal weed I was used to.

 

Come to find out my weed was laced with the heroine. How the hell could this have happened? TO ME! I always bought from the same guy once a week. This had never happened. The high was so bad but felt so good. I so care-free. From that point on, it was on!

 

I found myself buying pills, starting out at 1, then 3, then 10. I was 17 by the time I even realized this was happening. 2 years? Still had the same job, in school, a three-year relationship I had it under control no problem’ Or so I thought then.

 

Then I get locked up at the vail program in Vermont for 5 days.. Itching for one more line, anything to stop me from crashing. Maybe even a half would do. Sitting there feeling the hairs on my arm stand up and moving’ I couldn’t lose this rush I’d had for so long. Puking, dry heaving, laying on the floor in front of a fan, holding my own hands hoping I’d find something- knowing, in reality, I was in rehab.

 

The fifth and final day finally dragged along and I was free. Free to go back to my life. And I certainly did. Knowing what I know now I could have waited a few more days and I’d be okay to hold myself up. But why bother to go through the pain where I can feel my heart beating at the tip of my fingers? Another offer to try something shows up on my plate and I take it. What’s a reason to say ‘no’ now? Why let go now? Looking around at everything enjoying everything it’s given me.

 

A week later, few days shy of my 18th birthday’ Pregnant. My instant fear is, ‘Is my baby okay? How the hell can I become clean without anyone knowing and placing me away so I can’t take care of my baby?’ I had to choose my baby or my next feeding. That wasn’t even a question. This was a sign, a sign I deep down inside looking for. This will be my miracle baby. This baby will save my life and I’ll save the babies life. 3 years out I’m clean, able to watch my 2 1/2-year-old and my 9-month-old baby crawl, talk, eat, walk, but most of all wrap their little arms around me and love me.

 

Not to say I haven’t slipped up. After losing their father to another woman few days shy of giving birth to our second child. I could of’ I could have used and never looked back. I knew I had made it this far. I knew it was going to hurt. I wasn’t sure how I’d do this alone; he was my biggest supporter in my sobriety. He held my hair while I withdrew, while I craved and begged.

 

I gave birth to a beautiful little boy and as the father and I fought, while he hit me, while he held me at threat I thought about one hit. Just something to keep me strong enough to fight back for my kids. Instead, I found willpower. The same willpower I found to quit and become clean. The one I always call ‘My miracle babies need me’.

 

I fight this battle day in and day out, I’ve lost people I never thought I would loose while going through a craving or a slip-up, I’ve gained and depended on people I never thought I would be able to.. What a terrible body to live in with this disease. Anytime I question now, I know it’s for my miracle babies, they saved me.

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