Growing up is hard to do

It was a couple months into my rehab stay, and life was becoming more routine and more comfortable. My relationship with Collette and Holly was getting stronger every day.  Even in the midst of my worst days on the outside, we never fully lost contact.  But now that I was sober our relationships were growing and healing.  I had the time to focus on them and their needs.  We spoke on the phone daily, and wrote letters as often as possible.  I still have a box full of pictures, song lyrics, and letters that they sent me while in there.  Their struggle was real.  They had never processed or healed from everything they went through and everything I put them through.  They had a very hard time living at their dads house.  It was a complete different world than they were used too.   No matter how old they were, if they were upset or just feeling lonely, they would come crawl in bed with me at night and we would watch movies, eat junk and cuddle.  Our house was the friend house.  I was that mom.  All the kids in town would come spend the summer with us.  It was a happy household, until it wasn't.  The life they had at their dads house was far from what I just described.  It was structured and strict, and churchy. It was very difficult for them to adapt too.  All we could do was keep moving forward, closer and closer to our goal of me getting out and them coming home.  It was enough to keep us all going.  My mom visited me every single weekend and aside from my girls was my biggest supporter.  She would bring me things I needed and sit through classes with me and also sent me cards and letters.  Always with a message to pass on from my dad that he loved me and was proud of me. I couldn't have done it without my family. I was very blessed, as there were a lot of people in there going through this completely alone. People without a single visitor the entire stay....(anywhere from three months to over a year).

I was still very angry and had a lifetime to work out in my head and my heart. But it felt like it was working.  

I had been in trouble with the men.....nothing major...but had been caught having them buy me things at the store or flirting and pushing the rules a little too far.  So I got put on a contract.   If I even looked in their direction or spoke to any of them I would be kicked out.  Being alone for the first time in years was very difficult.  I was very co-dependant.  It's super hard not to be when you can't stand who you are.  I needed people to make me feel worthy. I needed attention......to be popular.  What was a way around that?  Hook up with a girl....that didn't last more than three weeks....got caught and put on a contract to stay so many feet from the women. I got caught up in drama so much....it was like high school in there...or rather Jr. High. When things got heavy around there the staff would have us all gather in a classroom together and sit in a circle.  It was called the "squishy fish".  There was an actual stuffed animal fish thing.  You could only speak if you had it in your hands. All staff and all clients attended. It was mandatory. Usually a client had gone to a staff member and told on other clients for things that were going on.  Like room number one has coffee hidden in their rooms, or so and so is smoking out their window...or someone was shacking up with one of the guys.  That person, who told, had to take the fish and confront the guilty parties.  The guilty party then got the fish and a chance to either deny or come clean.  It was hardcore.  People's lives stood in the balance.  Alot of clients were there on a last chance type deal from a judge.  If they screwed it up they went upstate for a few years.  It was a big deal. I was only facing a 90 day sanction if I were to get kicked out, but I knew it would be nearly impossible to get my girls back if that were to happen.
  Of course I was in the middle of these meetings more than once.  (As the accused) I learned quickly that honesty was really the only way to go.  Because like parents to young children, most of the time the staff allready knew anyway. A lie would get you into deeper shit then owning up and dealing with the consequences. Being the accused was unnerving to say the least. Listening to your house mates "tell on you" for lack of a better term.  Ugh...it was hard growing up. Yes, I had coffee hidden in my ceiling tiles, yes, I smoked out my window, yes, I was flirting with so and so......Damn it man.  How else was I supposed to deflect from the real issues?  No heroin to shoot into my veins....gotta stir some shit up somehow to create diversions for my pain.  As much as I didn't know how to survive without the drama, I also started wishing I could just knock it off.
I was enjoying my therapy sessions.  After my first big break through about the sexual predator my counselor started teaching me about shame.  There are so many different kinds of shame and so many different levels. I think I felt every single level of every kind. I had never wanted to be me.  Still didn't.  I hated myself.  In high school I wanted to be the girls in cheerleader uniforms, trying to get into college and partying with standards. But instead I was the girl everyone wanted to have sex with. Not because I was amazing or beautiful.  But because if someone told me they wanted to fuck me I smiled and giggled and let them.  I knew how to manipulate them and make them think they rocked my world and curled my toes.  Eww. Truth is that was the furthest thing from the truth.  Ever.  I hated having sex.  It was painful and embarrassing.   SOOOO much shame.  Why wouldn't I just say no?   Why couldn't I tell anyone that they were hurting me or that I didn't like something?  I was such a victim but yet it was my fault, my choice.   So I wasn't a victim.  Honestly to this day I don't have
an answer for why I couldn't say no or stand up for myself in any way.  How un-normal.

Shame.
IN SESSION : When I was 15 I met a girl named
Heather.   She was older than me and had her own house.  We were bad news together.  We quickly turned her house into tweakerville USA.  We were completely out of control.  She had money and she had drugs.  So everyone did what she wanted. Including me. We sold drugs for her....ripped people off, stole for her, had sex with her, and watched her child for her.  I made several trips to California with her to buy meth.  I had dropped out of school for the most part and lived for her to give me that next line. I have alot of memories of being in strange houses with strange people....not knowing even what city or state I was in. Wondering things like if the color of the walls in this house (house?) were really bright red or if I just thought they were because I hadn't slept in days...or was it blood splattered all over the walls.....or I'd wake up somewhere and wonder if we had brought Heather's baby with us and just forgotten where we put him or if we had left him home with a babysitter. These are just little moments of memories I have of this time. Not real clear on a lot of things from this time period.
I had met her older brother, Eric, a couple of times that Summer.   He lived in Southern California.  He visited Heather twice while I was living with her.  He gave me lots of attention.   He was 23.   We hit it off....he liked meth as well.   When he went back home he started calling me and would send me letters in the mail.  We would talk on the phone for hours.  It felt like love to me......I mean I was actually interested in him and we hadn't had sex.  We talked about it all the time, though.  He made a deal with Heather one night to have her drive me ten hours to a half way point between where we lived and where he lived.  He would bring her an eight ball of meth and she would bring him......... me.
That was it.  I was off and starting a new life far away from my friends and family.  My parents thought this had to be better than the life I had been living.  Anything had to be, right? They didn't know he was a druggie.  He was a business man....and had a good act. That night driving down to california I got more high than I ever had.  That California peanut butter crank......I tell you what. I was so excited to be on this adventure.  He had a good job and  a nice condo in Ontario California.  I absolutely loved it there.  I felt like a grown up.  He taught me how to get high during the day but still eat meals and go to sleep at night.   He would get up and go to work and I would go shopping with his credit cards and rearrange the house a million times.   He let me take him to work so I had the car.  I was 16 and had my license by then.  We had a great time.  We really did.  The drug use felt controlled and just felt normal.  We didn't fight..... we were happy.   We had friends .... normal friends that didn't use.  I guess we were closet meth speed freaks. We spent weekends at Newport Beach laying in the sun and boogie boarding.  We went to Disney land, knots berry farm, and baseball games.  We were always doing fun things. Going places and just enjoying life.  As I was growing up I really started missing my mom and dad. I spoke with my mom on the phone every day and we became really close.  Eric and I flew home for Christmas  (our first Christmas together) it was great.  No one ever knew we woke up every morning and did a fat line to start the day out.  We were back home for New years.  We partied hard new years eve.  Just the two of us....drinking and twacked out.   I had known I had missed a period the previous month but shrugged it off as super fast Metabolism from all the drugs.  (Does that even make sense?  ha!) Anyway for some reason that night.....that New Years night I took a pregnancy test.
It was positive.