H.O.P.E.

By, Tina Worthey

 

So, I’m in the backseat of this car and a song comes on the radio that I think is so appropriate for my current situation. The car I’m in is a cop car and I’m handcuffed in the backseat – which is really uncomfortable, by the way. The song that’s playing is by Tom Petty, so I start singing out loud: “Last dance with Mary Jane, one more time to kill the paaaain”. 

 

I must be entertaining them pretty good because I see the two cops looking at me through the rear-view mirror. Then they look at each other and shake their heads and I know what they’re thinking: that this crazy tweaker chick has definitely lost her marbles!

 

Well all I’m thinking about are my two best friends who have been pretty much living under hotel beds since I’ve been homeless for a while now. Every time I rent a cheap hotel room for a week or so, I have to sneak them in. My steadfast cats: Yoda and Mr. Fuzz. Sometimes I think the only reason I go on living is for them. Unlike the rest of the world, they do not judge me. If I get thrown into jail, what will happen to them?

 

At this point, my addiction to methamphetamines has taken most of what I ever valued in life. The material possessions disappear first, then the place you call home. Worse is losing the less tangible things like your self-respect, your dignity, and almost all vestiges of hope. The thought of losing my furry angels is almost more than I can bear… “You never slow down, you never grow old. I’m tired of screwin’ up, tired of goin’ down, tired of myself and tired of this town. Last dance with ‘Meth Monster’…”

 

Earlier that day I was in another car scoring an 8-ball of quality ice – that’s 3.5 grams of pure street methamphetamine for all you normies – from my drug dealer Dan when we both noticed the red and blue lights flashing behind us. I had just put my little baggie of major uppers in my purse, same place I always stash it – or so I thought. Now, I never could understand those addicts who could actually misplace, lose, or forget about where they had stashed their drugs. I always knew exactly where and how much I had at all times.

 

The cops pull us over and they must have had reasonable suspicion because they ask us if we have any drugs on us. If I have nothing else, I still have values and feel I always need to be honest. So I say, “Ummm, maybe a little…” The female cop asks, “Am I going to find any needles or paraphernalia when I look through your purse?”  I say, “No”, because I didn’t. Apparently, she doesn’t believe me, because she puts on her rubber gloves before diving into my purse. Meanwhile, the Boy Cop has found plenty of incriminating evidence on ‘Dealer Dan’ (named changed, not because he’s innocent). He’s spread-eagled over the steaming hood of his car his hands strapped and then driven away in a second police vehicle.

 

Girl Cop comes to the compartment in my bag where I ALWAYS stash my stuff, and I’m thinkin’, “Shit, she’s going to confiscate my fresh supply”, except that…IT ISN’T THERE! And like any bonafide addict I’m not feeling relief at this revelation. No, I’m feeling panic- where the hell are my drugs?!? She hands my purse back to me, then I’m looking through it. “What the ….?” Then I’m lookin’ on the ground and inside the car as she’s frisking me and neither one of us is finding anything useful. Now I’m getting an almost uncontrollable urge to frisk HER because I’m SURE she’s somehow managed to snag my baggie of ice. At this point, that maneuver would be very difficult since my hands are in handcuffs that are too tight and we’re on our way to the police station! I’m sure I’m going to jail, and I don’t even get a last hit because bitch cop stole my stash! “Oh, God – I will never forgive myself if something awful happens to Yoda and Mr. Fuzz…”

 

Looking back at this chapter of my life, I believe this is clear evidence of a Higher Power working in my life, even when I was not practicing recovery, nor practicing much of a relationship with something I felt I did not deserve. Over the years, my relationship with my Higher Power has evolved. Back then, as I told you, I had lost almost all hope. I say, almost, because my Higher Power never gave up hope on me. Today I call my Higher Power H.O.P.E. (Higher Omnificent Purposeful Energy). As I consciously practice this, the most important of all relationships, my life improves astronomically.

 

I did not go to jail that day. After all, they didn’t find anything on me. The one and only time I forgot where I put my drugs couldn’t have been timed better. Accidental? I think not. It felt so good to hug my kitties once I was joyously reunited with them. This incident turned out to be a turning point for me. I did find the baggie eventually, but, for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like using.