So there I am, sitting in my house: no power, no water, no job, and no vehicle. Not only that, but I had no way to get the van back to my house so that I could figure out what to do next. My rent was coming due again and I was running out of options. I had friends who were buying me food, and what little money I did have was going toward drugs and keeping my phone on. The walls were starting to close in on me, and my greatest fear was that everyone would find out I was a drug addict—and not only that, but that I was wasting their time and wasting my money.
My landlord took me to a local charity that paid my rent for a month while I was looking for a new job. My landlord also took me to a local church that paid my water bill. With these two things out of the way, I could then focus on getting my electricity turned back on and fixing my vehicle.
I soon realized that I wouldn’t be able to get my van back home and that I wouldn’t be able to come up with the money to have it fixed. Time kept ticking, and I still didn’t have a job. With no money coming in, it really didn’t matter what I did—I wouldn’t be able to pay for it. I could only think of one thing to do, and that was to junk my van and have the people come pick it up from the closed mechanic’s shop before I lost that as well. I found a place online, entered my information, and they offered me $1,300 for the van. That was far more than I had ever anticipated. I set up a time and date, and two days later I met them at the shop and they gave me a check.
I got the check cashed the same day, paid my rent, and bought drugs, of course. I also called the power company to get my lights cut back on. They told me that I was going to have to come into the office and pay the balance and the reconnection fee. That was on a Thursday afternoon, and I couldn’t get a ride that day. The next day happened to be Good Friday, and I found out that the power company was going to be closed until the following Tuesday. I didn’t want to spend another five days without power, so the next day I called a friend, and he said he would take me to go get a generator—that way I could at least have power over the weekend and I could return it on Tuesday. I went and bought the generator, took it home, and cranked it up. I didn’t realize that it was going to be as noisy as it was, and I decided that I couldn’t leave it running all day and all night, because my neighbors would probably start to complain about the noise. So, I returned the generator back to the store and went home. I was defeated. Nothing I was trying would work. I hadn’t showered in two weeks because I had no hot water. I hadn’t had power for over a month. I was only eating because friends were having food DoorDashed to my house. I couldn’t go to the grocery store because my refrigerator didn’t work and it was really hot and humid in my house. I was so looking forward to Tuesday when I could finally get my lights turned back on.
The weekend went by and Tuesday came. I had the money for the electric bill and was prepared to go up to the power board to get my electric bill paid and the power cut back on. I decided to call the automated service just to make sure that I had the correct amount for the tenth time, and to my dismay, it said that I no longer had an account. I was confused. I hung up and called a customer service agent, and they explained to me that after a certain amount of time they closed the account, and a deposit of $300 would have to be paid as well as the past-due bill. I hung up the phone defeated and started crying again. I was so frustrated. I felt like I couldn’t catch a break. At some point, I felt like it was a bad joke and that this was never going to end. People seemed to care about the things I was going through, but none of the solutions people were offering were helping. I felt as if everyone was judging me. I felt like everyone was saying that I wasn’t trying, that I was a loser, that I had failed, and that I wasn’t doing enough to get my life back in order. People were telling me to do things that they themselves said they would never do. I felt like I was beneath them. I felt belittled and cast aside. I didn’t know how to crawl out. I just wanted people to leave me alone, give me time to think, and stop judging me. I knew my bills were due, I knew that I didn’t have a job, I knew I lost my business, I knew my van broke down, I knew I was a failure, I knew I was a drug addict, and I was terrified of people finding out. What I didn’t know was how to fix it. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t in control; I didn’t have an answer. I only had me, my failure, and my addiction. I was losing my sense of me and who I was. Then there was a knock at my door.
The knock wasn’t very loud, but it was enough to push me over the edge. At that moment I thought, “What now?” I was going to lose my mind if one more person told me that I wasn’t trying hard enough, if one more person told me what I needed to do, or if one more person was there to judge me, to look down on me and with their eyes pity me for the failure that I had become. I got up from my bed—it couldn’t have been more than 30 seconds since the knock—and started racing toward the door. Whoever was waiting on the other side of it was going to get an earful. I had had it and I was ready to lash out. I wanted whoever that was to feel just as bad as I did. I wanted that person to leave in shame and horror and regret for ever thinking that anyone gave them the right to tell me anything. I unlocked and ripped open the door. There was nobody there—just the quiet sunlight coming through the storm door and a note folded in half and taped to the inside of the storm door. I was confused. I took the note off the door and started to read. The tears started again. The note was from my next-door neighbor. He had heard the generator and said that I might need “this.” He said I didn’t owe him any explanation or response—to just use it as long as I needed it, no time limit, no compensation. I opened the storm door and looked down. There on the ground was an old yellow extension cord. The note went on to tell me that I could hook it to his outdoor outlet and run it in through my window. My neighbor had never met me, never seen me, and didn’t know who I was or what I looked like. He said he was just doing what his God had commanded him to do: to “love your neighbor as yourself.” I wept.
I wrote him back a letter expressing how grateful I was and that I would only be using it for a day or two, just until I could get my power cut back on. That day or two turned into four weeks. He never came over. He never asked how much longer. He never tried to approach me when I was outside. He ended up leaving another note that said if I wanted to take a shower and/or wanted to just watch TV, that I could use his place for both. He told me to just let him know a day, time, and how long I would be there, and he would leave and just let me be. I would never have to see him or explain. This act of kindness broke my heart and changed my life forever. I never took him up on his offer, but I did write him a note expressing my thanks and gratitude for his love and kindness. He responded by occasionally leaving a plate of food next to my door so that I could eat.
Another friend at this time took me DoorDashing in his vehicle, and I was able to get the money for my electricity to be cut back on, and then my landlord took me to a church that paid for my water bill. My landlord also gave me a job doing random tasks around my apartment complex, a job dog sitting, and a job with one of her friends. My landlord kept hounding me to get a job—any job. I needed a full-time job so that I could get my life started again. I thought with no car that would be useless. I also thought, “What would be the point?” I figured it would take a month to get a paycheck, and how would I get back and forth to the interview? I finally put in applications with any job that I thought I could do and that was hiring. I ended up putting in an application with Walmart, and they called me a week later and did a phone interview. I was told that I was hired and asked if I could come in a week later. It would be on a Monday, September 18th. I was really excited and terrified at the same time. I knew there would be a drug test, and I knew that if I didn’t pass it, then there would be no more hiding. My friend who took me DoorDashing also agreed to take me to work and pick me up from work when he could. I told him that would be amazing and that I could Uber there when he wasn’t available.
That Thursday, the 14th, I did all the meth I had left. I decided that that would be it. I knew it took three days for it to be out of my system so that I would be able to pass the drug test.