All tagged recovery

Paul - The Power of Storytelling

I almost froze to death in there—they shut off all the heat in the buildings. I was in a locked cell by myself with paper clothes on. All that was there was a mattress. The guards really beat the shit out of me; when I first got there I was having blackouts, and apparently I was talking a lot of shit to the guards.


It’s a terrible place to be. It really is. I remember once, my son was six years old. He came home from school and put his arms around me. I remember forcing myself to hug this kid and show some love, and I didn’t want to love him. I didn’t want to hug him. My son was my joy, my gosh. 


I was addicted to heroin and crack-cocaine for about ten years. I overdosed and died twice in a six-month period, and I was at the bottom. Enough was enough. I had always battled with the whole—is God real, is God not real? I told him, “Man, if you’re real, and you save me from this forever, then I’ll walk it out,” and everything clicked.


I felt super suicidal the day that I told her and I felt like I needed to cut my body open in some way. So I decided to get Love of Fate [tattooed on my knuckles] and just let it go and accept that that's just what the past was and I've moved forward from that.


For a long time I tried to keep everything as clean and perfect as possible, so that nobody would get angry. After a while I realized that it wasn’t working, so I started doing other things. I self injured [cut] for a while. I wanted a way to control the kind of abuse that was directed towards me. If I abused myself, at least it was me choosing it. 

Ms. B

Well when I first came to Atlanta I was on Metropolitan. I was a young girl. I was about sixteen. This guy tried to pimp me. It was all older ladies in his little stable and they used to give me money to take back to him. They would tell me, “You don’t need to be doing this. You’re too young to be out here.” 

An Update From Megan

It can be tough to stay positive when I’m faced with so much sadness and seemingly hopeless situations. Last week was particularly tough because I learned of Ela’s death. The day after I made the post about Ela, I received this message from Megan.

Rest In Peace

I was working in The Bluff yesterday and saw a girl who, from a distance, looked a lot like Ela. I hadn’t seen Ela for many months so I was really hoping it was her. I approached the girl and as I got closer realized it wasn’t her. 


Morgan Freeman made a statement about how being in prison teaches you how to be a criminal. You learn more about crime and what not to do and what to do by being locked up with those people. All you have is time. All they do is talk about their sentences and what they did. 


y mom passed away in my arms at fourteen. She had this medication that would almost immediately stop seizures. She locked her jaw and she wouldn’t let me put it in her mouth and that was it. She didn’t want it. She wanted to go. 


 I’m sick and fuckin’ twisted. I think somethin’ done snapped inside my head that relates money to sex and sex to money. I think I started at such a young age that there’s something in my head that correlates the two.


A lady adopted them. I have a boy and a girl. One and two. It hurts that I lost them but I know *tears* that they’re in better hands right now. They’re more taken care of than I could have done right now. So… I’ve got to look at it the best way I can.


They sent my dad back to prison for something he did 4 years prior. He was clean with me. We went to a meeting every morning together and I went to my little night time younger people meeting and hung out with my friends. It had become a way of life for me. Then… it tore me up, I mean it TORE me up.


I don’t know why but, I just couldn’t cry. But I was hurt, you know? This is my blood. This is my granddaddy. I looked at him and he turned around. I could tell that he wanted to say something. I don’t know if he was trying to tell me he was sorry or what.