I am damaged goods. You know, like the can with the dent at the grocery store. You never want to buy the can with the dent. I always had the feeling that people could see right through me and knew how worthless I was. Then I found something that made me feel protected. I found alcohol and drugs and I was in love.
A lot of addicts and alcoholics like to go back and try figuring out the “cause” of their disease. Some lean towards the genetic line, in that the disease runs in their families and they just happened to win the lottery and get the gene that predisposed them to this affliction. Others take the route that their environment is the cause. That abuse, be it physical, sexual or emotional, caused them to look for a quick means to alleviate the pain. Still others feel they were conditioned into it because they were fed drugs and/or alcohol at an early age and on a regular basis. Then there are those with mental disorders who feel they need to use or drink to self-medicate. Some combine all or some of these reasons; they call it dual-diagnosis.
Looking back on this list has a tendency to make me just feel screwed. I can answer, “Yes, that’s me,” to all of it. I have alcoholics and addicts on both sides of my family. I’ve been abused in every way possible, off and on for my whole life, starting at the age of 2. As an infant and toddler I was addicted to Phenobarbital that was given to me for fibril seizures I would go into if my fever reached 99 degrees. I started smoking cigarettes at the age of 11 and discovered alcohol at 13. On top of all this I am diagnosed with mental illness. The specific diagnosis is Schizo-effective Bi-polar disorder and Borderline Personality disorder, just a technical way of saying I’m a manic depressive who hallucinates and doesn’t know who she is half the time….well let’s be honest…most of the time. The really sad thing is that the hallucinations I began having and continue to have to this day, I didn’t have before the drug and alcohol abuse got bad. So yes, I self-medicated, but all those reasons aren’t really why I used.
I drank and used because I didn’t like the way I felt. When I was drunk or high I didn’t feel. You do the math.
I drank and used drugs off and on, more or less on a regular basis until I was 29 years old. At that time the drug use just seemed to take over. My drug use grew to the point that I didn’t care about anything else. I abandoned my children. I voluntarily put my sons in foster care and left my daughter with her father. It didn’t matter to me. The only thing that mattered was my next fix. My children didn’t matter, my family didn’t matter, I didn’t matter and the only thing that did matter was the drugs. I did “try” several times to get help. That is I went to treatment, 13 times in all. I didn’t really want help though; I just wanted a rest, some food and a place to stay. After my 11th time in treatment I thought I might be able to stay away from the drugs if I moved away from Oklahoma, so I went to Beaumont, Texas. I think I was clean for a grand total of 3 weeks before I was able to find a new dealer. I really didn’t want to be clean; I just wanted my family to think that I wanted to be clean. I had been in Beaumont for about 6 months when I just gave in completely to the drugs and went out on the streets. I wasn’t scared, I felt like I had gone home.
I felt like I belonged on the streets. I was surrounded by people that nobody wanted. I was treated exactly as I felt like I deserved to be treated. No one on the streets cared about anyone but themselves, and only barely cared about themselves. The people on the streets only cared about what they could get from you and it didn’t matter if you were willing to give it or not because they would take it regardless. Selfishness was the norm. Violence was the norm. Secrets were the norm. I liked the fact that most people on the streets thought I was naïve and stupid. I took great pleasure in it. I knew I wasn’t as dumb as most of the others thought I was, but they didn’t know that. I had a secret. Living on the streets and all it entailed was so much easier than living a normal life. I didn’t have to be responsible for anything, not even myself.
My honeymoon with the streets lasted 5 years, and then it became a nightmare. I had been intentionally putting myself in dangerous situations. I wanted someone to kill me. I had tried suicide numerous times but always survived and so I thought since I couldn’t do it right that someone else could do it for me. I had conditions though; I wanted to see it coming. I was convinced that it wouldn’t happen this way though. I was sure it was coming, I just knew someone was going to kill me, but I felt in my heart that they would sneak up behind me and I didn’t want that. I wanted to look them in the eye. In my own sick mind seeing my death coming up to me was acceptable, being surprised by it was not. I wanted off the streets and I wanted off the drugs because I didn’t want to die that way. I just didn’t know how to do it and I was sure that my family had written me off. I knew they would never believe me because I really didn’t believe it myself.
I got my Dad to send me to treatment for the 12th time. I stayed 6 weeks in a treatment center in Lufkin, Texas called Peavy Switch. After the six weeks was over I called my Dad and convinced him that I was ready and able to go back to Beaumont and stay clean, but I knew he knew better. He let me come home anyway and I stayed 2 weeks before I stole money from him and disappeared again to the streets. Four months later I again went to my Dad and asked for help. I was even more frightened of dying by this time. I stayed in treatment for 4 months. I didn’t return to Beaumont but decided to stay in Lufkin where the treatment center was. I thought I could start a new life.
Life in Lufkin was far from perfect. I relapsed. I still thought I was worthless. I still didn’t believe my family wanted or needed me. I trusted no one and kept the mentality that I had on the streets. I honestly believed that if someone was nice to me they wanted something from me and that if I didn’t give it they would take it. I relapsed again and attempted suicide. Once again it didn’t work, but something happened after this attempt that changed my life and began to slowly change the way I thought about myself. Someone I was acquainted with that had always tried to offer friendship to me stepped back in my door and taught me I could learn to trust.
I met Bam Bam the day she moved back to Lufkin from Dallas. She had gone through treatment at Peavy Switch also. She didn’t ask anything from me. From the first day I met her all she did was offer her friendship and support. She didn’t stalk me, she just let it be known that she was there if I needed her and then let me make my own decisions from there. For the longest time I tried and tried to figure her out and couldn’t. She didn’t fit into the mold that I had built for everyone I met. She never tried to take anything from me. When I was hospitalized in intensive care after my relapse and suicide attempt she came to my room to see me. Two other people came with her, one I didn’t know and one I knew very well and definitely didn’t trust, my sponsor. Bam Bam did something the other two women didn’t do, she made me look at her and told me she understood, she told me it was ok, she told me if I wanted or needed to talk she would be there for me, all I had to do was call. I spent the next day in the hospital thinking hard about her and all she had ever tried to do for me. When I found out they would be sending me to a mental hospital for a while after I was released from the hospital I decided to test her. I gave her a call.
She was there for me without question. Once again, she never asked me for anything in return. She took my phone calls when I was in the mental hospital and even came to visit me. When I was finally released from the hospital she did something that truly blew me away, she came and picked me up and took me to her home. Bam Bam had 3 children and she took me to her home, I know I wouldn’t have been able to do the same, but she wasn’t like everyone else.
She took me in, not only as a friend but adopted me as family. She trusted me. I was so scared by the thought of going back to my empty apartment but could never come out and say it. I just always came up with another excuse not to go. I know she knew what I was doing, but she never said anything about it, she just let me know it was ok and that I could go when I was ready. Day by day she broke holes in the walls that I built so high around myself. She showed me I didn’t have to be perfect. She helped me to see that it was ok to feel and that I wasn’t alone. She showed me with her actions she understood and she was only there to help.
Bam Bam took me regularly to meetings of all different types. She took me to AA, she took me to faith based recovery meetings and she took me to church. I had never had a problem with believing in God. I just felt like my relationship with God was one of mutual dislike. She helped me see God was always there with me and that he wasn’t just waiting to punish me. She helped me to see God did love me. She never tried to force religion on me, but she did try to gently lead me towards spirituality. She let me make my own decisions and answered my many questions as openly and honestly as she had always been with me. If she didn’t have the answers, she would direct to someone that could answer my questions for me.
Bam Bam helped me to learn that I did have worth. There were times that she asked for my help and not only was I surprised that someone would turn to me for help but I was honored to be asked. I still found it hard to believe that someone trusted and believed in me, but I liked the feeling and didn’t want to lose it. I worked hard to show her I was worthy of the trust and friendship she was giving me.
With Bam Bam’s help I learned not only was I not damaged goods, but that even the dented cans in the store still had worth inside.


copyright 2007

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