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An Intervention Can be the Difference Between Life and Death

intervention successStanding in line at the security check point, a TSA agent tells the crowd to remove everything from their pockets, take their shoes off and throw all liquids away. I barely go through the motions, fighting the urge to turn around and bolt out the door.  But I have nothing to go back to. With ticket in hand – departure form Kailua Kona, Hawaii arriving in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, I knew that this was it.

Everything in my life was about to change.

Rewind to three nights prior to leaving.  I was supposed to get on my first flight. I had called my grandparents after losing everything in my life including myself. I thought I had things under control until the night I had nowhere to live, no money, no job and a meth addiction that was slowly but surely consuming me.

I called my grandmother thinking I could manipulate her into buying me a hotel room. My grandparents refused but offered to buy me a plane ticket. I reluctantly agreed knowing it was the only option I had left. I packed everything I owned in one suitcase and headed to the airport, missing the flight by half an hour. As I sat in that warm Hawaiian air, high and alone, I realized just how substandard my life had become.

My grandparents tried a flight again for the next night. Again, I missed it, but that time I called the wrong people. I got higher than I had ever been and ended up in an old red Toyota pickup truck with some guy I didn’t know driving an hour and a half out of town.

My grandparents realized I hadn’t made the flight and called, frantic and worried, wondering what had happened. They arranged for a woman to pick me up and drive me to the airport. I had other intentions though. When she picked me up I told her I needed to go to Target where I was planning on meeting my boyfriend. She absolutely refused to let me go. She tried holding my bags and I ended up trying to fight a woman in her 50’s.

I got all of my things from her and left with my boyfriend just so I could get high one more time. After smoking two grams of meth, drinking a bottle of vodka, swallowing eight Klonopin and smoking two blunts, I decided I had to get on the airplane.

Fifteen hours later, I walked past a blur of faces struggling to find a restroom. When I looked in the mirror, I barely recognized the face looking back at me. I stood there examining myself. I didn’t remember losing that much weight.

But when was the last time I ate?

I didn’t remember the circles under my eyes being so defined.  I looked like I had two black eyes. I had showered and done my hair and makeup but why did I look so dingy and gray?

When I finally arrived at baggage claim and noticed my grandparents, I saw something in their eyes that was unlike what I had seen before.  They were disappointed. I went to hug them like I used to when I was a child but then reconsidered. I said hello and nothing came out. I had lost my voice.

The next few days were nothing but me sleeping till 6 o’clock at night and eating everything in sight. My grandparents tried their best but I was mid-withdrawal and wishing I were anywhere but there. On the fifth day I was there, I was sleeping soundly in a white plush queen size bed when a tapping woke me up. My grandma shyly came in and told me that she wanted me to take a urine drug test. I acted very calm and confidently agreed. After I peed I went back in my room and laid down again and faded back into a deep sleep. About an hour later I was being awoken by both my grandparents. I could barely understand them but all I heard was “drug test” “meth” “5 things showed up” and it was that moment I knew I was screwed.

The next day a man showed up to the house. I scrutinized his every move through the upstairs window. I inspected him as he got out of what looked to be a rental car and approached the front door. I figured it was a business partner of my grandpas. My grandma came up a while later and told me that he was here to talk to me about what was going on so that he could better explain it to my grandfather. I hesitantly agreed to talk to him.

Within five minutes I knew where this was going. I didn’t want to hear what they had to say anymore. My behavior was erratic and irrational. I screamed the most inappropriate things at my grandmother and tried getting my parents or anyone to give me an escape route. I got up and went upstairs to the top story of my grandparents’ house and locked myself in there for nine hours. Around 7 o’clock that night I decided I needed to eat. The interventionist came into the kitchen and commented on my ability to cook.

I was so rude to him.

Everything out of my mouth was sarcastic or short and yet he still stuck around trying to break through to the real me. I ate and went back upstairs. A little white later there was a knock on my door. That man was still there. I thought to myself:

“Why? I’m mean and stubborn and I refuse to listen, why would he still be here?”

I finally agreed to hear what he had to say.

He made me feel like someone actually cared and understood the pain and difficulty I was going through. I didn’t want to be mean anymore. I remember asking him:

“So let me just get this straight, they want me to get on a flight tonight and go to rehab?”

He said yes.

I still didn’t think I was going but as I sat there on the top step of a wooden staircase next to this man I barely knew, I realized for the first time what I needed to do. The only battle I was fighting was the battle within myself. That night, I saw the strongest man I have ever known cry for the first time. My grandpa. At that moment something in me clicked and I knew what I needed to do. My grandpa sat on my bed hugging me and I told him I would go.

If it weren’t for the interventionist caring for me as if he had known me for years and my family refusing to let me cop out again, I don’t know where I would be. Narconon saved my life but if it weren’t for those who helped me understand that I needed help, I would have never gone to Narconon and I would have never had my life saved. The intervention was a big part in my recovery and I am forever thankful to the man who guided me to the best decision I ever made.

Everything in my life changed.

Cori B

Filed under Success Stories, Testimonials #

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