I’m Lyn, and I’m an Addict
By: Lyn Noland

I was standing in the kitchen with my six month old son on my hip when I heard a commotion outside.  I peeked out the blinds to see police cars in the driveway and heard a scuffle around the back of my house.  We were surrounded.

Monday, April 14, 2002, is a day I will never forget.  The police knocked on my door saying they were looking for someone else, I wondered why they would surround the house, unless they thought I was up to something.  I was.  They asked if they could come in and look for “Charles”, I said “sure”.  I thought I had my stuff outside.  I figured if I didn’t let them in, they’d think I had something to hide.  I was too slick for them anyway, or so I thought.

My partner in crime had come in early that morning and brought in a big black duffle bag we usually hid in the woods.  It had the ingredients for our “cook” that day in it.  She was making sure we had everything we needed.  I knew she had a warrant for her arrest, so when I saw who was knocking, I ran back to the bedroom, Steven in tow, and told her to get in the closet.  There was only one problem. She left a mason jar of acetone on the floor by her night stand.  When the police saw it they told me to go outside and take the baby, they’d be searching the rest of the property.

I remember as a child, craving the attention of my parents.  My dad was a truck driver and was gone most of the time and my mother was always in bed with some kind of ailment.  She had a shoe box full of pills under her bed and I would watch her sleep wondering sometimes if she would ever wake up.  I must have been fairly young at the time because I was only tall enough to look right at her face as she slept.  When she wasn’t asleep, she was gone.  I remember one time I came home from Brownies, which was over at five, and no one was home.  She had forgotten about me and I was locked out of the house.  Her nice new Cadillac was there though, and back then the cigarette lighter would work even without the car being on.  I was so cold and it was getting dark so I curled up in the car and kept pushing in the lighter and warming my hands around it until I fell asleep.  Sometimes I wondered if I disappeared, how many days would it take them to notice.

When I got to high school I became the overachiever.  I wanted so much to be important to someone, anyone.  I made straight A’s, was in every club, class clown and was always in the local paper for community service projects.  By this time my dad had divorced my mom and started a new life in another town with another family.  I saw him even less.  I became more like my mother’s room mate instead of her daughter.  I came and went as I wanted to and started drinking at parties with my friends.  I remember she told me once to “be home early”.  I laughed at her and said, “When did you wake up and decide to be my mom?  Oh, I’ll be home early all right, early in the morning!” and slammed out the door.   She never told me what to do again.

Right after graduation, I went to summer school at UT Knoxville.  I was from a small town and was ready to see what the world had to offer.  This is when my drinking really took off.  When I was drunk, I was funny, pretty, and people liked being around me.  I could be whoever I wanted to be.  Handsome men would buy me all the drinks I wanted.  I was the “party girl”.  Everybody who was anybody called me to see where the best parties were going to be.  Alcohol had filled that hole in my stomach that was making me incomplete.  I was finally important.

I always had great jobs in sales and marketing and I was good at it, so I made a decent living for me & Shelby.  I drove a nice car, had a nice house, good friends.  I was a young professional, a PTA mom.  I went to Chamber functions, Country Club Parties and chaired charity events.  I had everyone fooled, but not for long.

Meth took over my life.  Within a matter of months, I went from using on weekends to using every day.  I didn’t make the money I used to make, because I wasn’t on my game any more.  I started buying ephedrine pills, iodine and other ingredients to trade so I could stay high.  I supplied several cooks with what they needed and they kept my pockets full.  They also started teaching me the parts of the cook process.  Then I was not only hooked on meth, but hooked on the cook.  About that time I just quit going to work.  I didn’t have time.  I was too busy using and finding ways and means to use more.  I had quit answering the phone to my old friends, family, everyone except the people I used with.  I didn’t go to clubs any more and had stopped drinking.  I only wanted to be around people who used like me, all day, everyday.

Guess what? I’m pregnant.  I tried to ignore the fact as long as I could, but when my belly got big, it was hard to hide it.  I slowed down using, but didn’t completely stop.  I did quit cooking and being around labs.  I really wanted to stop using for my baby, but I couldn’t lift my head off the pillow without it.  I had become physically dependant and couldn’t function without getting high.  Well, I really wasn’t getting high much any more, just trying to be able to function and get through the day.  Toward the end of my pregnancy I would go several days and even weeks without using, but it was horrible.  As soon as I had Steven, I was off to the races again.  I was using more, cooking more and taking more chances than I ever had taken before.  Even through all of this, I always thought I was a good mother.  My kids never saw me use and never wanted for anything.  They meant the world to me and now they were gone.

I left treatment and went to a half way house in Nashville.  I knew if I went back home, I’d use again.  Everyone I associated with there used and cooked.  I stayed in half way for almost six months. I went to 12-step meetings, got a sponsor, and started actively working a recovery program.  I moved into a recovery apartment and had a beautiful baby boy in September of 2004.  Sawyer’s dad is a man I met in early recovery, he’s using again now and who knows where he is.  In November of the same year, Steven came home.  Shelby still lives with her dad and comes to my house on weekends, holidays and a lot in the summer.  I feel as though I have disrupted her life enough.  We don’t have much, but my kids and I are happier than we have ever been.  The little things mean so much now, especially since I can remember them.

Today, after working for other housing organizations for almost four years, I started my own Non-Profit transitional living center with one of my best friends, Jeff Phipps.  Jeff and I got clean together, and he actually showed me where meetings were when I first got to Nashville.  It is called Recovery Community, Inc.  We have only been open since October 2007, but already have five houses and a lengthy waiting list.  The need for wrap around services here is so great.  There are people begging for help to overcome their addictions, and most places only provide housing.  We provide case management, counseling, food, clothing, treatment referrals, and if they need anything else I will find it, and God will find a way.  Since I have been through this myself, I always reassure my people that they are important, and if I can do this, they can too.  I have seen so many people replace the dope with hope.  The only problem is I just don’t have enough places for all of the people who need help.  We have applied for grants, but the process is slow.  As people get on their feet and pay a minimal rent, we will open more places.   I have found my purpose.

My life has meaning and purpose now.  I have filled that hole in my stomach that has kept me miserable most of my life.  I didn’t fill it with alcohol, cocaine, or even meth, but with the love of God, my children and the hope of our future.  My experience is real, my strength is truth, and my hope is recovery. 

My name is Lyn, and I’m an addict…………and my story has just begun.