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Losing Everything Getting Clean

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  • Losing Everything Getting Clean

    She is beautiful piece of broken pottery, put back together by her own hands and a critical world judges her cracks while missing the beauty of how she made herself whole again.

    That quote was found via Facebook and I have been endeared to it ever since. It will probably be my tattoo I award myself with when I hit the one year clean mark. Oh, by the way, I am a heorin addict in recovery.

    My trip down the rabbit hole lasted about five years. During those five years, the Sarah that everyone had known for so long disappeared and the demon I unleashed roared her ugly head. I did so many things that I am not proud of to this day to those that I love and care about. I still am paying for those decisions over eight months later as well.

    In order to actually get clean, and stay clean, my world has been forcibly turned upside down. I lost literally everything, minus my life. Well, I did lose the life I had but I am still breathing and have a heart beat.

    It started on January 3, 2016 at eight thirty in the morning. My fiance and myself were getting our children back (two boys) from my mom and grandmother. Our basement had flooded and we didn't have heat or hot water for a week. The basement was finally dry and everything was operational again.

    I was so excited, but we needed to get stuff to resupply the house because we had lived as dope fiends for the entire time the boys were gone. I proceeded to snort my last half gram of heroin while my fiance did his shot. We both then finished smoking the last bowl of ice and started our walk to Family Dollar.

    On our way we argued at first over some stuff but then we got over it and looked for other apartments on the walk. I loved the neighborhood we lived in because I had spent most of my years there and it truly is home to me. Then, when we reached the store, he wanted to go one way and I wanted to go the other to get there. We agreed to split and he chose to wait outside while I shopped. No surprise there, I love to shop.
    I walked in, did my shopping and went to the counter to pay. I went outside in the middle of the clerk ringing things up because it I was getting warm wearing the layers I was. I returned to the store, and the clerk was just about finished ringing.

    Suddenly, in comes the fiance, robs the place with a bb gun and leaves. I was in shock. The entire situation plays clear in my mind every day still. The police showed up, questions were asked, and next thing I am arrested.

    I have only been to jail one other time and that was when I was 5 months pregnant with my youngest son at 31. That was for 24 hours, for traffic.

    The entire ride to the jail and for the next several hours, I did nothing but cry. The detectives continually tried to press me for information and I was completely numb and sad.

    That evening they come to my cell and take me out. I thought I was going home. That was not the case.

    I was led into an office type of room and there was my fiance, handcuffed to a filing cabinet. Apparently he turned himself in and they were giving us a chance to visit and say goodbye. I spent about forty five minutes with him, crying, talking, and trying to soak in what could possibly happen next. They then took him away and led me into the interrogation room.

    The case is still ongoing so I am not going to speak anymore on what is going on.

    After I left the interrogation room, I was taken back to the cell then loaded into a paddy wagon with the rest of the arrestees, and carted off to the St. Louis Justice Center in downtown St. Louis. I was booked, and then placed into the women's hold pod until January 5. I was taken down to the holding areas downstairs to await video court. Sometime during the wait, they brought my fiance down as well and put him in the holding room next to the one I was in.

    We spent the time hollering back and forth catching up until we were all escorted to the video court room. Us women were put in plastic lawn chairs in the front, facing the normal chairs that the men were put in. I was then the first to be seen in front of the judge. I stood in front of the camera and seen myself on t.v. It was horrible. I was so dope sick I felt like I was going to pass out. My hair was a stringy, matted mess and I looked like death warmed over.

    As my anxiety began to climb, the judge flashed onto the screen. She read me the charge of robbery first, stated my bond was $75,000 with a ten percent cash only option for bond, then dismissed me. I was sticken with shock at first then stuttered excuse me ma'am. She looked back up at me and said, "Yes?" I then said something about the bond possibly being reduced because I have never been in trouble and before I could even try to say anything else, let alone breath, she said no and turned away.

    I was in shock as I shuffled out to my chair. My fiance looked at me for anwers, I couldn't even look at him. I don't even remember when he was called to stand outside the door of video court. All I know is I heard the Sheriffs call for the ladies and we all stood up to depart the room. This put me in a direct path to pass next to my fiance. As I did, he motioned his head for me to get close and I did. We kissed and then we got yelled at as I left the room.

    The rest of my time that day is somewhat of a blur. I was dressed out in jail uniform, and waited for the transport van to the workhouse. Women are not held long term in the justice center.

    We then were taken to the workhouse and sat longer to be put into the computer system at the workhouse, dressed out in a different jail uniform, assigned our container with a blanket and such, then sent to our pods. I was in pod 2 cell 18. My inmate number was, and will be if I'm ever in the city jail again, 160444.

    As soon as I signed my inspection sheet, I went to my cell and went to sleep. Detoxing is horrible as you all know. The jail does not give anything but Imodium and Ibuprofen, and puts you in a smock with a belt and leaves you in a room with others detoxing. Therefore I informed nobody I was detoxing. I just slept it off. In fact I slept so deeply the correctional officers that did checks had to come into my cell to wake me because I would not wake up during checks. I didn't hear them.

    It took about a week for me to actually come out of my cell and stay out. The first time I didn't stay out long but I tried. By the end of the second week I would stay out for the majority of rec but I always went into my cell early because my anxiety would spike or I would feel the urge to cry.

    The cry sessions were largely brought on because the only phone number that I knew, that was not a cell number, was my grandmother's house which is where my mother lives, and that was where my children were. I would call every day and every day I would get yelled at or belittled. I would hear my boys in the background and my heart would ache so bad, especially for my youngest who was only four months into being 2 years old. Those are the years I missed with my oldest son too because I was working.

    As time wore on, the hate from my mother lessened or worsened, depending on the time I called and the amount of alcohol she consumed. My grandmother would ask me if I was going to sign my children over to the state or if she was going to have to. I no longer had any ability to communicate with my fiance and he had been my rock for the past almost five years. My world was falling apart at the seems.

    On the Tuesday of week three I could no longer call my grandmother's because we had exceeded the allotment of collect calls. My anxiety was at an all time high at this point. I no longer had ANY communication with ANYONE. I was a mess internally. Externally I did my best to keep it together, but I found that I withdrew more and more to my cell.

    On that Thursday of the same week, I received a letter but I didn't recognize the address. When I opened it I immediately fell apart, in the rec area. It was from my fiance. He was asking me if I was going to leave him and begging me not too. He also said he understood if I did. At the end he included a beautiful poem. I am crying now remembering it. I probably sat at that table and read that letter 20 times. The other ladies would ask if I was okay or what was wrong because I had never shown that type of emotion around any of them.

    The rest of the week continued, of course, but I felt a little lighter. The following Tuesday I tried to call my grandmother's and it went through. It took a little over a week but my mom figured out how to get money on the phone. She was relieved to hear from me and we cried together over the phone. The rest of the week I played spades and dominoes. I sat and talked to the other girls. I laughed and cried over the phone with my mom. I was beginning to feel human again.

    On the Tuesday I had spoken with my mom, I asked her to come to visitor's day that coming up Saturday. She agreed. The Friday of the same week I called her. We talked for a moment before I decided to tell her how excited I was to see her because I really was. She said, immediately that she wasn't coming to see me that Saturday. I was crest fallen. I then asked why. She then said because she was coming to bond me out.

    Dear Lord, I flipped. I screamed actually, and that was definitely frowned upon. I started crying and begged her to tell me she wasn't joking. She wasn't. I told her she couldn't pick me up til Monday because the workhouse does not do transport over the weekend. She was slightly bummed but I was so overjoyed. But the weekend seemed to drag on FOREVER.

    That Sunday our pod actually put together a talent show. I was so happy because for the first time since I had been there I felt like we were all "human" again. Unless you have been to jail for a period of time, I am not sure you can understand the analogy, but I don't want to make assumptions. Just know that when you're in that situation, you feel like a number, like a piece a paper, like you're anything but human.

    That night we all laughed at the crackwhore skits that were drawn from actual life experiences of the performers. The skit where the ladies mocked how men pose in their jail photos was all too true and absolutely a riot. Ladies with voices that could rival an American Idol contestant made my heart ache for home and music. It was a blast.

    The next day, I got up for breakfast at six in the morning, like usual, but I packed everything in my plastic tote after I ate. Then I played the waiting game. Lunch came, eleven thirty, and my anxiety had hit reached state of emergency. I didn't understand why I hadn't left yet so I called my grandma. She tells me that my mom had to wait for court so the judge could decide if I could be released on my own accord, if my bond would be increased, or if my bond would be canceled. As I hung up my mind was exploding and tears stung my eyes.

    I asked Ms. Moss to open my cell so I could fall apart. I laid on my empty bunk for all of five minutes before I hear Ms. Moss say, "BATEMAN! JUNK AND BUNK!" I wasn't sure if I heard her properly but then I heard everyone clapping and whistling. I opened my cell a crack and peered out. She smiled at me and I opened it all the way and marched to the podium with my tote grinning away.

    I was then escorted to the hold tank, loaded into the van, sent to the justice, signed my bond paperwork, and then sat in female holding until nine that night because I had a bench warrant for fifty bucks from an accident a year and a half prior that my fiance had actually been the driver of, but I took the charges because I didn't want him going to jail since he had a warrant for child support. My bond on that had been posted at the same time as the large bond, but they "misplaced" my paperwork.

    No matter, I still went home that night. Home was my grandmother's house since I no longer had my apartment. I also no longer had anything I have ever owned. While I was in jail, my mother, grandmother, and landlord had systematically claimed what they wanted (my mom brought "friends" over and they took what they wanted), then they donated things, and trashed the rest. My fiance was, and still is, in jail. My boys were there, but my mother has temporary guardianship of them since I didn't immediately start working the day after I was home. So, literally, I lost it all.

    Thankfully I am still free. Regardless of the situation surrounding going to jail though, that is what ultimately saved my life because I got clean and I have managed to stay clean through it all. These past eight and a half months have been nowhere near easy either, but I will save that for another post.....
    Last edited by stlmomma2three; 09-23-2016, 12:02 AM.

  • #2


    • #3
      You've been through a lot girl but I'm glad jail made you clean. I'm on Suboxone and it's working for me.


      • #4
        Dear NoMoreAddiction

        I have quite a few friends who have found solace form their addiction in Suboxone and I totally get it. It just so happens to not work for me.


        • #5

          I never properly responded to this post even though we talk all the time privately about things. But I appreciate your willingness to be vulnerable and open about what you've been through. I've also had the pleasure of learning more about you through your blogging as have other members in the community. Please keep up the good work and I look forward to seeing your next blog.

          Peace and Love,

          Publisher of Kill the Heroin Epidemic Nationwide™, Heroin News and the National Alliance of Addiction Treatment Centers.

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          I do my best to educate myself regarding addiction and recovery related issue, treatment options, etc. however, I am not a medical professional. All opinions are my own and any advice you take from me is at your own risk and discretion


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