Perfect Summer

 So, finally, the van comes. We load my stuff and I'm driven to my new apartment, It was fully furnished and decent. We had rules we had to follow to keep our houses clean and even had to label our food because we weren't aloud to eat it past 3 days per the state regulations apparently. But you talk about a pain in the butt...THAT was a pain in the butt. But overall, it was ok. It was going to be my home for I didn't know how long at the time. Then my Dad pulled up with Hayden. I couldn't wait to see him, he looked so adorable in this little jump suite and he ran to me and gave me a big hug. It felt so good to have my son in my arms again, because there I know he's safe. Having to deal with knowing your child is with strangers is such a hard feeling to explain. You're on edge all the time wondering if he's ok. I was just glad to have him back with me. Then we unpacked my stuff and spent a little time with my Daddy (yes I still call my Daddy "Daddy". I have a tattoo of "Daddy's Girl" on the back of my neck if that tells you anything. Then the hard part came which was having to tell him good bye. And my Uncle Ronnie had came with him to help so I had to tell him good bye too and he is the uncle I am the closest to. So that was hard. I just felt like I was about to be really alone and I was scared but I still did everything I was supposed to. I kept my apartment clean and didn't sleep on the couch. For some reason we weren't allowed to lay down on the couch, only sit up. Maybe it was to help us avoid self pity and depression. For a while I was a bit depressed I think but then I just accepted it and started to be more alive, I can't think of a better word. So I spent 90 days there. Came home in May and lived with my Aunt Faye for a bit but ultimately ended up back at my Daddy's house. I got a job at a beach store but then was offered a job at a really busy restaurant as a server so I took that job and quit the store. I got really into doing nothing but working. It was almost a release and it was fun. It definitely had it's moments. For a while I didn't have a car so I found one online, I can't remember but I believe it was Craig's List. It was a nice, blue Acura TL. It had leather and was fully loaded. So my Daddy got it for me and I paid him the payments. But I made really good money at this restaurant so it was no problem. I also gave him money to put away in the safe. The day I got my car I asked for my savings so I could go bail Jonathan out of jail. He was accused of being involved in stealing coolers but he just knew about it, he wasn't involved. My Dad was NOT happy but he gave me the money because it was mine. So I get Jonathan out of jail and we have an awesome summer together. We went to the beach a lot and we would spend entire days there just so we could be together. Finally we had enough money by November to get our own place so we did. We got our first apartment together and I was SO happy because I was (and still am) so in love with him. It went exactly how we both knew it would...perfect. It was paradise for me to finally BE with him and it just made me so happy. We finally had what we had spent hours talking about at our special spot.

Doors To Freedom

 So yes, there I was in the car with my Daddy and stepmom, on the way to detox. I had my Dad stop at a CVS right before we got there so I could buy a phone card. But I also had him stop because I still had 2 bags of dope in my bag and I was determined to use one last time. Its the nature of the disease. Even though I WANTED to stop, that switch (you'll hear me talk more about "the switch") was flipped still and I was still and addict and I still wanted to be high. So I went into detox high as a kite. I don't think I'm alone. I this is a very common place thing that happens everyday when people are checking into rehand for whatever reason, getting high before you go in is a must. So I did. I get there, they meet us at the door and hurry me to say my goodbyes. I knew what I was walking into because I had been there 2 or 3 times before when I was MADE to. But this time..this time it was MY decision to be there and I was determined to succeed. I swore that would be the LAST time I ever used heroin and it was. I KNEW in my heart that this was it for me. I hugged my Daddy and stepmom, got my bags and walked away into those doors. Those were the doors to freedom even though they locked once you walked through them. Those locked, secure doors were the doors to the next chapter of my life and I just KNEW that THIS TIME, this was IT for me. I was done and I was entering into the process of becoming ME again...and I couldn't wait.

The Devil's Lies

 I apologize for the adjective but its really the only one that embodies how I felt at the time and the reality of what I was going through. God please forgive me? So, after I sat in the county jail for 3 weeks, detoxing off of suboxone & heroin (not fun). I had 2 pictures taped to my wall and they both were pictures of my kids. I had completely and utterly failed at my main role in this life God had so graciously given me. I had failed at being a Mom. Something so important to me that I couldn't put into words. And there I was in a striped outfit, sharing a radio with my roommate Kate (names will be changed as I don't have permission to use their name and although these are true words, I don't know the laws so I am trying to be safe) who was quite a bit older than me but was nice and mature and calm and that's all that mattered. We got a long well. I finally am allowed out. I go to my dads, knowing my son is in foster care, and park my butt in my Dad's "man cave" and smoked cigarettes' and thought. It took about 2 months of this self-loathing crap for me to realize this wasn't me. Who was this gaunt, frail, pale, skeleton of a person starring back at me who had lost her kids and was a complete f*up. Who are you? I didn't even recognize that person staring back at me. I was looking in the glass at the sink in my dad's kitchen at this moment, staring at the reflection....in the glass...and I was terrified. I knew all of a sudden that I needed to do the one thing that terrified me the most because my ultimate goal was to become the mother I needed to be for my babies. So I had this epiphany of sorts. I just realized I needed to check myself into rehab. The reason "check myself" is so important is because THIS TIME, it was MY decision. No one was making me. No one was forcing me. No one had even mentioned it actually. I just called my attorney one day and said, "Hey, I'm going to rehab, they're letting me bring Hayden with me(which is why I chose this route, it kept me with my baby) and I'll be back when I'm back. " He didn't say anything except ok. So there I went, the day came and, yes I was still using, so clearly the problem was substantial, I get the call that says you have to be here by such and such time, and when you get that call, you go. So I said my goodbye to Jonathan (believe me when I tell you how much self talk, and sheer determination and will power it took to leave him behind in a way. It weighed on my mind the whole time I was gone. I was SO afraid I'd get THAT call.) But I also HAD to get better. I had to control what I could and that was ME and MY actions so that's what I focused on.

So My Life Was Shit

 I apologize for the adjective but its really the only one that embodies how I felt at the time and the reality of what I was going through. God please forgive me? So, after I sat in the county jail for 3 weeks, detoxing off of suboxone & heroin (not fun). I had 2 pictures taped to my wall and they both were pictures of my kids. I had completely and utterly failed at my main role in this life God had so graciously given me. I had failed at being a Mom. Something so important to me that I couldn't put into words. And there I was in a striped outfit, sharing a radio with my roommate Kate (names will be changed as I don't have permission to use their name and although these are true words, I don't know the laws so I am trying to be safe) who was quite a bit older than me but was nice and mature and calm and that's all that mattered. We got a long well. I finally am allowed out. I go to my dads, knowing my son is in foster care, and park my butt in my Dad's "man cave" and smoked cigarettes' and thought. It took about 2 months of this self-loathing crap for me to realize this wasn't me. Who was this gaunt, frail, pale, skeleton of a person starring back at me who had lost her kids and was a complete f*up. Who are you? I didn't even recognize that person staring back at me. I was looking in the glass at the sink in my dad's kitchen at this moment, staring at the reflection....in the glass...and I was terrified. I knew all of a sudden that I needed to do the one thing that terrified me the most because my ultimate goal was to become the mother I needed to be for my babies. So I had this epiphany of sorts. I just realized I needed to check myself into rehab. The reason "check myself" is so important is because THIS TIME, it was MY decision. No one was making me. No one was forcing me. No one had even mentioned it actually. I just called my attorney one day and said, "Hey, I'm going to rehab, they're letting me bring Hayden with me(which is why I chose this route, it kept me with my baby) and I'll be back when I'm back. " He didn't say anything except ok. So there I went, the day came and, yes I was still using, so clearly the problem was substantial, I get the call that says you have to be here by such and such time, and when you get that call, you go. So I said my goodbye to Jonathan (believe me when I tell you how much self talk, and sheer determination and will power it took to leave him behind in a way. It weighed on my mind the whole time I was gone. I was SO afraid I'd get THAT call.) But I also HAD to get better. I had to control what I could and that was ME and MY actions so that's what I focused on.

The Devil's In Town

 So yesterday I let my son go out to play at about 10:30am. HE comes back in in tears saying there's a man telling him his Daddy isn't his Daddy and that this man is his Daddy. So then there is a knock at the door and standing there is my Ex's oldest son, Brad. He just said he wanted me to know he wasn't trying to cause trouble he came to tell me they were moving in right there. In MY neighborhood. IDK what to even do. This is the man I have put a lot of energy into keeping Hayden from because he is toxic. He was toxic to me and he will be toxic to Hayden.

Jonathan has been here for Hayden for the past 5 years. Kenny has not. If he wasn't incarcerated, he was out getting messed up, I have the mug shots to prove it. Jonathan DID SO MUCH with Hayden and they are best friends. Now here comes Kenny trying to rock the boat. It makes me wanna move.

Me vs. Me

 So, this is going to be a short post but I thought I'd post a picture showing what I looked liked after only a couple months after becoming a full blown addict (left) and me TODAY as a former addict in RECOVERY.

Back to Falling in Love

 So the reason Jonathan walking out on that beach that day was so important is because a couple months after Kenny was gone for good, Jonathan and I had developed a relationship. It had built over time, spending every day together (yes chasing drugs) and having so many long conversations at our special spot (its a secret, that's what makes it special), a real, good, pure, friendship grew and from THAT the relationship grew. I can remember riding down the road, exactly where we were which was on the road to my Dad's house, and he said, "I want you to be my girl friend" to which I replied, "I thought I already was" with a cheesy grin on my face. And it was so. We were officially together and I was SO happy. I had never had feelings like that for someone before. He didn't know this but, I idolized him. He was my world before he was my world, if that makes sense. But anyway, so that is why I said, that rear view mirror was so important, because that's where it truly started and no matter the time spent away from each other that spark was lit in both of us. The only thing in the way was my oh so toxic relationship with Kenny. But, he was gone and Jonathan and I just grew closer and closer...even though we were doing dope together every day, that does NOT discount our connection. He was the only thing that made me feel good because the drugs didn't even do that anymore. No, they just made me "normal" which in the addict world means NOT SICK. Our relationship was the ONE thing that was just mine, and brought me joy in an intensely joyless lifestyle.

So, we go on for months just hanging out and getting dope and hanging out and getting dope. He even OD'd in my car in our "special place" and I freaked out but I had NARCAN so I hit him with that. I had to physically pull him pants down while he sat in my passenger seat and pull down his pants to give him this shot in the proper location. Long story short, the ambulance met me but by the time they got there he was AWAKE BECAUSE OF THE NARCAN (I can't stress enough how having Narcan with you can SAVE A LIFE, even if it is a stranger. I get this is a controversial issue and now is neither the time nor place for me to get on my soap box about THAT subject.

Back to the story, I had actually gotten in trouble, it was a Tuesday. I was tasked with going to this place called the "quarters" that you DO NOT want to be in, to get us both some bags because he was at work. So I go, get them and decide I don't wanna wait to do mine so I pull over at a park (my son's in the backseat btw) and I park right in front on the playground. Well it was mid-morning so he fell asleep. I did my shot and it s was STRONG and I nodded out right there so someone, understandably, called the cops. I called my cousin to come get Hayden so social services wouldn't take him and then I sat and talked to two narcotics officers who were saying, if you will agree to work with us we will take you in, book you, and let you go. So, of course, I said yes. So Jonathan found a way to pick up my car from the park and he came and picked me up and where did we go? To "town" (that's ours and anyone who does dope's nickname for Wilmington) to get more bags since his were taken and I just wanted more. So we get them, come home, I drop Jonathan off, he lived with his parents at the time, just as I did, and I went home and acted like everything was cool. So Friday comes. Pay Day. This is the day we both look forward to each week...sad, I know. So I had court that morning for what happened on Tuesday (of the same week, keep that in mind) and when I got out I called Jonathan and he said "Come on, we got our checks", so I go get him in Southport and by this time I am feeling pretty bad (dope sick) so I let him, with no license, drive us to town. We get syringes and the dope and pull over at an apartment complex and do what we do and put everything away. During that time, a social worker had called me, and I just told Jonathan I had a feeling, in my gut (which is NEVER wrong) that I was going to lose my son. He buffed it off and said "Babe, that's not gonna happen, stop stressing it." So we leave the complex and head out of town, Jonathan with 4 bags of heroin and me with empty bags (because I saved then and I'd scrape them when I was desperate) in my wallet, syringes, and, well, you get the picture. Then on the bridge, I see this navy blue Camaro and I tell him, "Babe that looks like the undercovers I talked to on Tuesday". He doesn't really say anything and then we rounded the corner which also happens to be the county line for Brunswick (where we live) and New Hanover, where Wilmington is. As soon as we crossed that line cops came from everywhere!!! I'm talk running up to the car screaming "Let me see your hands". Well, my window didn't roll down so I had to open the door and this cop (whom I knew personally) is screaming at me about what did I stuff in my bra so I showed him EMPTY heroin bags. He then hand cuffs me and over on Jonathan's side, the same thing. And my poor son was in the back seat the whole time. Thank goodness he was too young to remember any of this although, I know one day I will have to explain a lot to him and Ava, but that will be when the time comes. Ava already really knows everything. I told her because she is a mature 10yr old and I like being honest and open with my kids. But poor little Hayden was just sitting there watching not having any clue whats going on. This short, *expletive*, cocky cop puts me and Hayden in his Camaro and on the way to jail I ask him if he got up with my Dad and he said yes. So I was like, well is he coming to pick up the baby? He said, "Nope", with this mean, spiteful look on his face, almost happy. He then explains to me that my son will be going into foster care. That's the enormous, eye-opening moment when EVERYTHING, all the years of drug use flash before my eyes and then its like back to reality and I just cried. I whispered to Jonathan while we were waiting to be booked in that Hayden was going to foster care and he just started crying. He stood there with tears streaming down his face. He was blaming himself but I don't know why because I was a willing participant and he definitely didn't have to twist my arm in any way, so it wasn't his fault. It was mine because he was MY son and I am the one who is in charge of him and I let him down. I let my son down in the worst way, I abandoned him. Now I have two children that I love more than life itself and I can't see either of them. My life was shit, and because my life was shit is why this is a pivotal point in my story. More to come later!

Officially a Heroin Addict

 I call myself a recovering addict of Heroin because before it was all over, that's the only drug I was doing. I'd wake up, call Jonathan, and there we would go, assuming one of us had money. If not we'd have to scheme to figure out how to get it. Many times I'd just ask for it and make up a reason I needed it and no one knew the difference. I never stole for my money. Well, except the one time, it was Christmas and Kenny and I were at my Dad's for the first time for a holiday (this is the same December I really got hooked on the pills) and I went to the bathroom in my Dad's room and my stepmom's jewelry was just laying there. I just took one ring. A ring I didn't think she wore. I wasn't thinking, I was an addict at this time and that is ALL I was. The fact that I knew right from wrong didn't matter, that I was raised WAY better than that didn't matter, if I hurt my stepmom, it didn't matter. I was an ADDICT. Addicts don't think like you and I as regular people. The ONLY thing on their mind, is locking in their next high, PERIOD. Remember that if you're dealing with an addict. And remember this. This is one of the MOST important messages I want everyone to know. An addict's actions have NOTHING to do with how much they do or don't love someone. They're INCAPABLE of rationalization because that part of their brain has been hijacked. Mine got hijacked by opiates and eventually heroin. Somehow my conscious got the best of me and 3 days later I called my Dad and told him. I told him I had pawned it. So he came down and we went and got it back. You wanna talk about ashamed of myself? Oh my was I ever. I had let my Daddy down. My Dad had been all I had my whole life and he had instilled values and morals in me and here we were going to get a ring I sole from HIS house, essentially from him because he paid 2k for it, and I couldn't hold my head any lower or I'd be in the dirt. I felt like the biggest POS there is. But, at least I did the right thing and told him. So to answer the question where did the heroin come from...it actually came much later than this particular time.

It happened one day, in 2014, when Kenny and I were living with my sister. We were desperately looking for pills with no luck. He had called a friend, lets call him "Dave" because I don't want any back lash to this person. But Dave called back and said, "Man I can't get any pills but I can get bags (which meant heroin) if you will give me a ride." Kenny looked at me and had a do you really wanna go there look on his face and I swiftly said yes. I told him to get anything I didn't care. I was dope sick and I'd have done just about anything at that point. So we pick up Dave and head out and get our dope and come back to my sisters. We all went in our room and Dave shot us all up (with the same needle) since it was our first time. Later I found out it wasn't Kenny's first time but he pretended it was. That first time wasn't the best, like a lot of people's stories say, but it surely did the trick. I vividly remember the best. IT was called "Passion" which was stamped on the outside of the bag. It was a sunny day and I was driving my mom's car because I had wrecked my "new" car. I had to go down to a place I did not wanna go but hey, like I said, I'd do anything. So I sit for a bit and Jonathan comes back to the car. We had his friend with us. He handed us each our 2 or 3 bags. I did that shot and a huge, warm, tingly feeling started in my stomach and overcame me...THEN I was hooked. It was all over from that moment. I was officially a "heroin addict".

Falling In Love In the Rear View MIrror

 Once Kenny started working with Jonathan, I'd sometimes, well often times, take Jonathan home too and little did Kenny even realize at the time but through a rearview mirror I fell in love with Jonathan Hedpeth. When he would get into the car, he and I would have conversations while Kenny listened to his stupid rap music and talked on the phone about getting more pills. And he would treat me like crap right in front on Jonathan. Talk about embarrassing! But I never had the nerve to stand up to Kenny, not yet anyways. By this time we were living in a trailer, we rented a room from another couple. He was a shrimper so he would be gone out a lot and she'd be left there alone so having people around made her feel better and we needed cheap rent. I can't even recall how much it was...that seems like a lifetime ago now. Kenny ended up doing somethng stupid and having a warrant for his arrest and I was just over it so in the summer of 2014, I had Kenny arrested. I called the County Sherrifs Office and told them I wanted him gone so I would help them catch him. So we set it up so he was in my car at a certain time and I would get pulled for a tail light out. He'd ask for everyones ID and then run Kennys to see there is a warrant. Kenny was angry because I had talked him into coming with me to do something for HIS dad. Then, sitting in that car he looked at me and said goodbye. I think we both knew at that moment, that was it for us. We knew we'd try but deep down I know I knew that was it for us, because , after all, I had fallen in love with someone else and Kenny had no idea. But thats not what made me grow a pair. No, what did that was after living in pure filth just to be with him, he had the nerve to head-butt me during an argument. He busted my left eye right on open and blood poured down my face. All of this happened in front of our son while he was sitting in his carseat. At THAT moment I swore, I promised God that was IT. I said once a man laid his hands on me I was done because I knew that meant it was down hill from there and that was just crossing a line I wasn't willing to budge on. I must have had some self respect even as a junkie, huh?

I Didn't Know What Hell Was

 I thought those 3 days in jail were the worst thing ever...boy was I wrong. I thought I had lived through hell for those 3 days but I didn't know what hell was , yet. So I got out and for some stupid reason went right back to the same guy and this in turn, made me start using again. I thought I LOVED him. I thought I could help change him maybe if I changed, but all we did was feed each other's addiction and issues and we were (as much as I hate to admit it) toxic for each other. You never don't want a relationship to work out. I mean, I really was determined to make this works because I was, first of all stubborn as a mule and dead set on proving everyone wrong (you'll learn that about me; if you tell me I can't do something then I most certainly will do everything I can to show you I CAN) and convinced that it wasn't his fault, he was the way he was which, was emotionally, psychologically and verbally abusive to me, especially towards the end when I weighed 92lbs and looked like I could die any moment, because he wasn't raised right which wasn't HIS fault. But throughout the relationship our drug use progressed from pills to heroin, but I'll tell you that part later. However, prior to that, I got pregnant. I actually got pregnant twice but the first time I was so far down in addiction I couldn't imagine bringing a child into the world so I had an abortion. NO, I am NOT proud of it and I don't know if I even believe in it now, now that I am on my walk with God and finally let Him into my life and my heart and my spirit. But the second time, I decided I couldn't do that again so I sought help from a local, outpatient drug treatment facility. I was put on buprenorphine (Subutex) which keeps you from going into withdrawal and is "safe" for the baby. After I found out I was pregnant, I didn't touch a drug, except my prescription. I did everything right. I was able to live at my grandma's while she had nurses and full time care in and out and I helped out some. I had my own room and just slept a lot and cried a lot because, at the time, all I wanted was to spend time with Kenny, the father of the child and the "love of my life", or so I thought. My father even ended up running a drop cord to my car, which was parked in his driveway, so he could hook up a heater for Kenny so he could sleep in the car because him and his father (someone I DETEST) had been in a fight and it was the middle of January. So, again, being the stubborn girl I am, I got my down comforter and pillows and I went out there and slept in the car with him, full term pregnant. Full term pregnant and sleeping in a car. He wasn't allowed in my grandma's because mostly the family hated him but they said it was because we weren't married. But on January 25th, the best gift in the world came to me in the form of Hayden Keener. My baby boy was born. And as excited as I was, I knew what was next; Hayden now had to be withdrawn from the buprenorphine and they do this in the NICU with morphine. They use this scale called the Apgar Scale which gages the baby's withdraw symptoms with numbers and they higher the number the worse the symptoms. About 24 hours after he was born, Hayden started showing withdraw signs and I have never felt pain like that before because I was the one who did that to him. But my doctor said she couldn't take me off because THAT was even more dangerous to the baby because they couldn't control anything while the baby was in the womb. IF the baby went into withdrawal inside me, there was a chance he could die and I wasn't taking that chance for sure. So, we spent 3 months in the hospital with him. I NEVER left his side except to go eat and take a shower. The NICU has showers and sleep rooms and a place to do laundry for the families of the babies so that was nice but all of Kenny's paycheck (yes, he was actually working) went to us eating while we lived at the hospital. Hospital food is expensive when you're not a patient. But we hung in there. Every time they would take Hayden's morphine dose down, his scores would go up so they had to give him more morphine. I told them they were stepping him down in too big of increments (but what did I know, in their eyes I was just a addict junkie who hurt her baby, or at least that's how I was made to feel by the nurses in the Betty H. Camron Women's and Children's Hospital, a subset of New Hanover Regional Medical Center in Wilmington, NC), I told them they just needed to adjust the dose to be a little higher and this wouldn't keep happening. Well after about 3 times of this happening they finally listened to me and adjusted his dose and guess what...everything started running smoother and his health improved. I don't care what ANYONE says, Moms know their kids and we have a special connection that allows us to know what our children need. So in March of 2013, I brought home a beautiful, healthy and sweet baby boy. In may of 2013, I made a horrible decision and married Kenny Keener. Ugh, typing his name just makes me nauseous. But then, he was allowed to move into my Grandma's who had unfortunately passed while I was in the hospital, that is the only time I did leave. I couldn't miss my Grandma's funeral. She was like a mother to me my whole life. That was a sad, sad time. But she had dementia really bad so we had sort of lost her long before that, if that makes sense. I know it will to some of you. So, we're married and one day go to the beach and I turn around and see Jonathan Hedgpeth standing there with a cooler. He, Kenny and I all went to school together from about 8th grade. So, after some conversation, Jonathan ended up getting Kenny a job (since he had lost his for breaking a tool) and little did any of us know at the time but that started a ball rolling that hasn't stopped yet. More to come later. If you enjoy what you are reading, please subscribe and sign up for the email list. I don't send out emails as of now but for future reference, I'd love to have your email.