It’s never too late to start over!
– Lynne Gentry
I
t began when I was eleven. My family and I had just moved to a new town. Making new friends was never difficult for me before, but I was going through an awkward stage, and I was feeling self-conscious about my appearance. I was having a hard time reaching out to meet new people. So when I saw some kids smoking, I figured if I could join them for a cigarette I could meet some potential “friends.” We hung out and smoked every day. Before long I was introduced to other kids, and eventually I started drinking. Soon, drugs and alcohol became my friends, too. A few years later, I was using cocaine and running away from home.
The first time I ran away I was thirteen. I had come home late one evening, and my mom was still up. She saw me sitting in a friend’s car in front of our house. She was pretty strict about me being in my friends’ cars. I was so stoned, and I knew at that point I couldn’t go into my house, so I left with my friend.
After that night, over the next year and a half, I ran away twenty-three times. I managed to come back every time, but within twenty-four hours I’d leave again. I was so hooked on drugs that I was afraid if I stayed at home, I wouldn’t be able to get the drugs I wanted and needed so much.
I would stay at friends’ houses until their parents figured out what was going on. Instead of returning home, I chose to live on the streets with friends or by myself. In colder weather, basements of apartment complexes became my source for shelter.
My mom didn’t know why I was running away. I didn’t communicate with her. She obviously knew something was wrong, but she just couldn’t figure out what it was that was causing me to leave home. She tried putting me in some treatment centers. During the first treatment center visit, I told her what was going on.
When I returned home from treatment I was off drugs, but after a few weeks I started using again. I continued this pattern for a while, having relapse after relapse. Finally, my mom quit her job to dedicate all of her time to helping me.
I went through three more short-term treatment programs, each one lasting only eleven to fourteen days. Each time, I was sincere about wanting to quit drugs, but I didn’t know how. I felt like I didn’t have enough time in those brief programs to learn how to live my life without drugs. By then, I was battling an eating disorder as well.
When I turned fourteen, my mom decided I needed long-term treatment. In my state, at fourteen you’re allowed to legally deny medical treatment. So when my mom wanted to put me into a six-to-nine-month treatment program, I refused. I was at the lowest of lows in my life at that point. I had already overdosed on peyote and, not knowing how to turn my life around, I looked at suicide as my only way out. I just didn’t know how another treatment centers were going to help me.
Finally, my mom and I took our battle to court. She told the judge about my past, my drug use and that I was an addict. The next day he placed me in a treatment center. I haven’t been stoned since that day, five and a half years ago.
The treatment center was like a big family. We would go to school for half the day and then receive intensive counseling. Prior to my admittance to the center, I had been using cocaine heavily, so I went through withdrawals.
The real turning point in my recovery happened when I met someone my own age who really wanted to quit. She kept telling me, “Help me, and I’ll help you.” That moved me so much, and it still moves me when I think about it. Having a peer say, “Hey, you can do it,” made me want to do it this time.
I also met a woman in a Narcotics Anonymous meeting who had a major impact on me. She stood up and started talking about what was going on in her life. I remember watching her and thinking that she glowed. It’s hard to describe, but for some reason she just glowed. Everything about her life was okay now, even the parts she was not happy with. I remember looking at her and thinking, I just want to be a little bit shiny. I don’t need to glow, but just shine a little. That day I decided I was going to do everything in my power to live a healthy life.
Wanting something and following through with it were two completely different things for me then. After I finished treatment, we moved again. I was turning fifteen, and I knew that before long everyone at my school would find out about my past. I was going to be in the same position I was in when I was eleven, with no friends, only this time I couldn’t use drugs to help me make them.
I was so determined not to make the same mistake that I sought help from my guidance counselor right away. I told her that I didn’t trust myself not to slip back into my old lifestyle. She surprised me by asking me to tell my story to fifth and sixth graders. I told her I had never spoken in front of people before, but she assured me that I would do just fine.
I was really scared about sharing my past with a bunch of strangers, so I asked my mom if she would join me. We sat down that evening and planned the presentation. We had our first heart-to-heart since I was ten years old.
We did two presentations at an elementary school, and they made the front page of all the local newspapers. Suddenly, schools were calling us. I was surprised. I couldn’t believe people wanted me to come to their schools and talk, that they considered me to be somebody who could help other kids.
I realized that doing these presentations helped boost my self-esteem and confirmed for me that I never wanted to do drugs again. The thought that I might be helping to save someone’s life or preventing other kids from getting involved with drugs made me feel stronger.
My mom and I still speak at schools and treatment centers together. Kids call me at home sometimes after our talks. Some thank me. Some share their own stories. Some even tell me that I shine - and that is the best part of all.
- Jenny Hungerford