The Meth in My Story.

What brings someone to have meth arrive in their story? I’m sure there are a million stories and reasons how meth wound itself in someone’s story; it was already in the family, parents used, high-school friends pushed, boyfriend/girlfriend  introduced, etc. Some reasons are because someone wanted to be ‘cool,’ curious, bored, because everyone else is doing it. But there is more to it than that – there is a story behind how meth snakes its way in. Remember, I was a pastor’s wife and became a meth addict. Yeah, being naive had a lot to do with it but there is a story behind it.

I was newly divorced from my pastor husband and working at the airport on the private side when I met Mark. Well, I heard Mark before I met him – he’d roar down the ramp to park his Harley Davidson in the mornings, and he would come to our hangar to talk to our maintenance crew and pilots about the movement of our planes. We met and talked business. We met more and talked about life. We met more and he asked me if I had ever ridden a Harley. That first ride was a changing point for me. In hindsight, would I have said ‘no’ to dodge the turmoil that bike would bring to my life? Honestly, probably not because, man, I loved riding that bike.

Next were dates and more rides on the bike. Every time we hung out it was fun. I totally became a biker! After several months, and of course, way too soon, I was moved in with Mark – completely against everything I had ever been taught. Mark was 35 or 36, and right after we started seeing each other, he went and had a vasectomy. His dad was older when he had Mark, and died of a heart attack while on vacation when Mark was pretty young. Mark had decided that if he didn’t have kids be the time he was 35, he wasn’t going to have any, so that’s why he said he wanted to procedure. We were seeing each other but I didn’t have (and didn’t want) any say over what he did. I DID NOT EVER want kids so that suited us fine! A year after we started seeing each other, he asked me to marry him and we eloped.

GREAT times! We had some much fun together! We would ride the bike ALL the time. We’d ride the bike to work and then take the long way home just to go for an evening ride. Our life was relaxing and fun. We enjoyed doing things together and traveling. We had dreams of having horses together some day in our backyard and spend all our time enjoying the wind in our face. I was looking to buy a horse and he wanted a horse too, so we were working on our goals. Life was just a dream.

Then the bike broke.

In San Francisco while on a ride.

And literally, it was like our life together broke.

‘She’ (the bike, of course) was older, needed a deep cleaning and have parts repaired. But that is what changed Mark. He started sleeping lots, got really depressed, and started talking to me about smoking pot and drinking. He got me to try wine for the first time which was my gateway to trying other alcohol. He started getting angry and desperate. I had absolutely no idea how to deal with any of this! I was young and could only be supportive. During this time, I purchased my little filly and not long after, someone out at the stables where I boarded my horse GAVE Mark a young filly as well. The horses helped him but because they were so young to ride, they only took the edge off of his depression. It was the following New Year’s Eve that he said he had something for me to try that would make us feel GREAT. It was the first time in a long time that he looks positive, hopeful, and excited. Yeah, I’d try anything to bring the fun back with him. He was so dark and depressed without the bike that my curiosity was pricked. And I trusted him.

Two years of awesome fun and a great relationship with him. Two years of dreaming and playing.

Two years out of four.

What happened after that? Well, we started tweaking but to my dismay, it only makes it so there were really good days and super super bad days. When a friend of ours from work (who was a Harley mechanic) said he would help us fix the bike, it started a year-long process of working on the bike – OURSELVES. Yeah, I helped! I loved that bike and whatever would bring Mark back, I’d do it! I was there learning and totally helped strip that bike down, cleaning with little cloths every crack she had. I fell in love with that bike more and more cleaning her. There is a picture of my somewhere all sucked up weighing 104 lbs, holding a big piece of her in my lap with my little cloth, cleaning. Cleaning the bike was great to tweak on. Gave a whole new meaning to ‘clean’.

The tears and emotions when she was all back together and she stared for the first time. Following behind Mark as he rode her home first the first time in over a year – all clean, fixed, and sounding beautiful. As I sit here, I can hear her downshift and roar up the mountain. Oh, I can still see his smile and emotions when we opened the garage door and put her back in her spot. I thought everything was fixed and we could go back to being us. We had the yard almost done for the horses to come home, and we were about to live our dreams out with the Harley and the horses both at home.

But no. There was our meth addiction; ruining our relationship, our finances, our lives. Ugly, nasty days outweighed the good days. Even after bring the horses home, training them to ride, and spending our time between the things we had dreamed about, EVERYTHING was scared by the glass pipe. Eventually went down in a blaze of glory and I had to run for my life. I left everything except a car full of stuff, my horse, and my dog.

Two years of four in TURMOIL and ADDICTION.

I heard a couple of years ago that ‘my’ beautiful Harley Davidson was sitting in a pawn shop. Mark had eventually lost everything too. It was with deep sorrow that I heard that the bike was there. How could it be that something so wonderful could all be lost?

The answer?

METH.

Meth takes everything.

Where was God in all of this? He was watching my life implode and was waiting for me. He kept things from being worse or too bad to recover from, and paved the way for me to escape the circumstances and the addiction. He had a place for me to go, people to love and take care of me, and gave me the strength to start rebuilding my life. If you’ve read any of my other blogs, you know that I didn’t bounce back into perfection after everything fell apart with Mark – no, I had to learn more lessons and God had to pick me up many times.  In fact, He watched my life implode again before He again rescued me. Sometimes it takes twice.

Life is completely the opposite for me now. I can’t imagine life without the two beautiful boys that are sleeping in their beds as I type late this night. I know this is where I am supposed to be. In hindsight, I’m very thankful that I didn’t have children with Mark (yes, I believe that God’s hand was in that as well) so when Mark and I separated our lives, it was a clean break. I honestly don’t know where Mark is now. I have no ill feelings for him and only wish him peace.

The only thing that shakes the memories of those good times is when a Harley goes by.

So, this is my story. This is the story behind the addiction. If you want to share your story with me, I’d be thrilled! Contact me!

Til next time, peace.

Want to talk to me? Sign up for Face to Face time! I’d love to talk to you and hear your story. Want to quit meth? I offer recovery plans and peer mentoring. Let me know if I can help.

 

 

 

About Carlee Walker

My name is Carlee and I'm a meth addict. I've been clean for nine years and celebrating normal life. Yes, a meth addict can have a normal life and the addiction can be like a scar on the knee. AND you don't have to face your addiction alone! Jesus has already promised to help us if we just call on Him - and my life is now fulfilling thanks to Him. Come, journey with me. Share with me. Grow with me. Together, we can celebrate normal life.