Todays Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul

[Guest guest]

Staring Back at Me

By Ben

When I was fifteen years old, I packed as many of my personal belongings as

I could fit into two small backpacks and headed for the easy life. My only

goals were to avoid responsibility and have as much fun as possible.

It was the beginning of summer, and I was sitting in my bedroom at my mom's

house. We got into an argument over the usual teenage stuff. I didn't want

to abide by my mom's rules, and I was feeling frustrated that " nothing ever

went my way. " When I left my house that day, I left with a feeling of

liberation. I had won the battle with my mom. I was now in charge of my

life.

I didn't know exactly where I was going, but I figured anywhere was an

improvement. I spent the next few months couch-surfing from friend's house

to friend's house. I would stay at each place until I had worn out my

welcome. In less than a year, no one wanted me at their house, and people

were starting to talk. See, I had a little secret, or what I thought was a

secret. I had been using drugs quite heavily and supporting myself by

stealing and selling my friends' material possessions.

I was a sixteen-year-old with no friends, no home, no self-esteem and no

self-respect. I was sleeping in bank-machine booths and cardboard dumpsters

to stay warm and dry in the winter. I considered suicide. I was overwhelmed

by the feelings of hopelessness and despair that I felt on a daily basis. I

lost a lot of weight. I hardly ever slept because of the drugs. The longer I

was awake, the more desperate I would get. It became a vicious cycle.

I remember vividly the night I ended up at my sister's house. It was the

middle of winter, and I had been living in another city in a speed lab - an

abandoned house with torn-up plywood floors littered with garbage, dirt and

bugs. I hadn't slept for thirteen days. I went back to my hometown intending

to do some laundry, then leave. I don't remember how I got there, but I

ended up at my sister's house where I was asked to " please stay. " I was so

confused. I hadn't had anyone want me around for so long that I was

suspicious. But it wasn't a difficult decision. Either I went back to the

streets, or I had a warm place to stay for a night. She gave me her bed, and

I fell asleep.

When I woke up, I looked around until I found my sister. I was kind of in a

daze. " What time is it? " I asked her.

" It's 9:30 p.m., " my sister told me.

" Oh, okay, then I've only been asleep for a couple hours, " I replied.

" Well, no, Ben. Actually, it's Thursday, and you got here on Sunday, " she

informed me. " You've been sleeping for four days. "

My sister, knowing that something wasn't right, told me I could stay with

her for as long as I wanted to. I unpacked all my clothes the next day. I

stayed with her and her boyfriend for almost a year and continued to use

drugs. Unfortunately, my problem progressed and got worse. I was using every

day, and I hated the person I had become. I wrote in my journal that I had a

problem and wasn't able to stop. Pain was the only emotion I ever felt. I

had been stuffing my feelings down with drugs for so long that I didn't know

what feelings were anymore. I wasn't afraid of anything anymore. I prayed

that I would die. I was depressed, and I had no motivation, dignity or

ambition left whatsoever.

One night I jumped as the phone rang. I picked it up, and my mom was on the

other end. I was scared to talk to her. She said she knew I was having a

hard time dealing with what my life had become, and she wanted to read me a

poem called Footprints in the Sand.

Instead of using the words " the Lord " she used herself. She told me that she

would always be there for me if I needed her and that she would " carry " me

through the toughest times of my life if I would let her. I finally

understood the madness I had created. I had shut her out for so long because

of a stupid decision I had made on an impulse one day over a year ago. But

with her love that day, she broke through my walls of insecurity and pain. I

just sat there and cried. I finally knew that someone cared.

When I hung up the phone, I felt incredibly guilty for what I had done to

myself and the pain I had caused others. I was completely overwhelmed. I

didn't know what to do. I was happy one moment because my mom still loved

me, yet absolutely terrified the next. Through the tears I saw a knife on

the dresser in front of me. Crying hysterically, I picked it up, and a

feeling of calm and release came over me.

I woke up in the hospital bandaged and surrounded by people - my mom, my

sister, my friend and the nurses. I spent another month in the

hospital, only this time I made a conscious effort to get help for my drug

addiction. I started going to a twelve-step fellowship and met some people

like me who were getting clean but had a while to go before they could

rebuild any kind of life. On their recommendation, I decided to move into a

recovery house. I lived there for ten months and now live on my own. I am

finishing high school and enjoying life.

A lot has changed for me. The biggest change is that I feel good about

myself and what I'm doing, and I have lost the desire to use drugs. My

self-esteem is growing, and I have a huge group of friends. I have a

relationship with my mom again. We talk almost every day. I have a job and

people who love me. I spent my nineteenth birthday clean, with my family and

friends. Today I can finally look in the mirror and be grateful for the

person I see staring back at me.