TRIGGER WARNING: Underage sexual content Daily life at this facility (my home) was so extremely different than anything I had ever experienced.  There were rules.....very strict rules.  And there were consequences...which were something that made me pissed off on a daily basis. I pushed the boundaries as far as I could and more than once I pushed them too far. I lived literally on the streets before this.  (Well, and at our county jail) you just don't push the rules in jail if you want to get out to get high anytime soon. But here, ya, I pushed.  We could smoke cigarettes but only at allotted times.  I always tried to reason with the staff about this... "Dude, I just fucking quit heroin and you want to limit my nicotine intake!?" I never got the response I wanted from that. I got caught i don't know how many times sneaking out either my window or out the back door to smoke.  I got my name put on the board.  Just like in elementary school. Beside my name would be a c

My mind is so confused and my body is in so much pain.  I don't really know how long I have been here even.  A week? A couple days? I am dripping with sweat.  My bedding is soaked and so are my clothes.  I cant hold still because of restless legs, and I can't move around because it hurts.....every single square inch of my body hurts....even my hair freaking hurts.  My heart speeds up and slows down...I am dizzy, and puking and shitting my brains out.  This has been going on for.....well, for however long I have been in here.  I have searched my belongings countless times.   There HAS to be an old syringe that they missed when checking me in ....and at this point I am willing to shoot water into my veins just to see if I can trick myself into feeling two seconds of relief.  It doesn't matter......there are no rigs....no matter how many times I look.  I did find one thing, though.  One thing that could put an end to this agony.  I had two small picture frames with pictures of

I tried so hard to get in one last hurrah.  I called everyone I knew and asked if they had anything. Blues, greens, H. I even asked for Percocets and Vicodin. Somehow every single drug dealer I knew was off the grid. No where to be found.  WTF.  I found one person. One girl who I had done time with a few months previous.  She said she had one blue (A blue is a 30 mg Oxycodone).  I made up some lie to my mom saying this girl owed me money and that I HAD to stop by some apartment she was going to be at on the way.  I could tell mom was leery.  I did not care.  I was desperate.  We pulled into the parking lot and I jumped out and handed this girl all the money I had in the world. Thirty five dollars.  She knew I was desperate and she knew where I was going so she jacked up the price.  She took the money and said she would be back in two minutes.  I got back in the car.  After 30 minutes I realized I had been ripped off.  My heart skipped a beat...or a few.....reality was setting in.  I

Hi. My name is Missy. I am 39 years old. I, like everyone, have a story to tell and a journey to share. Part of my journey has been getting to where I am right now. Where am I right now?  Well,......let's see....Currently as I said, I am 39.   I am a mother and a grandmother. I am unemployed, a convicted felon, and a heroin addict.  Why I would choose to introduce myself in this way? Well, this is how society defines me. Plain and simple.  So I figure I may as well just lay it all out there. Let's go a few steps further.  I live with my parents, and am currently on welfare.  Oh! And I'm a single mom. Okay, honestly that last sentence took some guts. So now that I have been thoroughly judged and put in my place in everyone's minds, let me explain why I am seemingly in no position to be giving advice, let alone trying to help anyone but have every intention on doing exactly that. I am where I am today because I chose to be.  Now, if taken literally, it sounds as if I CH