Lia Saling
I am 41-years-old, married, and a stay-at-home mom. I have four children: a 6-year-old son at home, a 13-year-old daughter who lives with her father, a 10-year-old son living with his father in another state, and my 9-year-old step-daughter, who lives with her mother.
My husband is a truck driver, keeping him away from home for weeks at a time. Until recently, I worked full-time as a medical assistant in a family practice. My husband and I agreed that the time was right for me to resign my position, stay at home, and be more available for our family. My husband has adopted my youngest son and we have a happy life.
I love that I am here for our kids when they need me, and am grateful that my husband works so hard to provide for us. My life has not always been as great as it is today. In fact, it was a nightmare. I am a recovering drug addict. I became addicted to methamphetamine at the age of thirteen. I am proud to say I have been clean for five years.
A troubled teenager, I quit high school and eloped. The man I married took me to New York to become a model. That did not happen, and I was literally locked in an apartment out of which he ran a pornography ring. He was physically abusive to me. My drug use increased, and I became addicted to cocaine.
He let me take the GED test, so that I could work as a waitress. I struggled to get away from him. With my parent's help, I was able to return home to California and live with them until I found a job and my own apartment. Going home came with the condition that I send for him when I had an apartment. I did, our relationship deteriorated and eventually we divorced.
My addiction was what some refer to as functional. I worked, had an apartment, and nobody knew I had a drug problem. I did not think I did. Drug users find each other, and I quickly became acquainted with others like me. In the late 1980s, in San Diego County, I was in the methamphetamine capital of the America. I became involved with a coworker. We dated and moved in together. In 1992 we were married. In 1993 we bought a house and in 1994 our daughter was born.
I stayed clean long enough to deliver without complications. Her father kept using and I could not stay clean. With both of us using heavily, the violence began. Soon, paying the dope man was more important than the mortgage. We lost our home in foreclosure. We moved into a rental and were evicted. Our marriage fell apart. We wound up in court, fighting for custody of our daughter. He won. I was devastated.
My pain was unbearable so I used more drugs. I met a new dope man and became pregnant. In 1997 my son was born. Again, I was only able to stay clean long enough to deliver a baby that would not test positive for methamphetamine. After his birth, I began using again. The cycle continued. My boyfriend was physically abusive to me and eventually I left him. I had a place to live, a job and most importantly, custody of my baby son. Still using heavily, I was functional.
In 2000 my world fell apart. My daughter's father announced he was moving her to Ohio. I will never forget that pain. I cried all night while I held my sleeping children. This should have been another wake-up call for me to get help. I could not see past the hurt, could not face my daughter being taken away. I sank deeper into my hell.
I met a new dope man and became more obsessed. I was laid off at work. I was so out of my mind that I did not look for another job. This man was homeless, he stayed here and there, but had no place of his own. There was no place we could be together. I was renting a room in someone's home. My roommates did not want him in their house. My thinking was, okay; it is summer in California, so we camped on the beach, with my two-year-old son. I literally packed some things for my son and I, and we went to the beach. We never went home unless it was to get clothes.
Eventually, I was evicted. My new boyfriend acquired a boat. That boat on a trailer, in the driveway of a notorious dope house in a gang-ridden part of San Diego County is where we lived. Then he acquired a motorhome. It was not long before I was served with papers: my sons father was going to take custody. And he did.
The service process took a horrible turn: my boyfriend with a baseball bat vs. the guy serving papers. Other people jumped into the fray and weapons came out. The police took him to jail. I was alone and now my son was gone. I hid out there until he was released from jail. I did not know how to drive a motorhome and had nowhere to go. It was full of drugs and cash.
We remained homeless for the next three years. Living in a motorhome with no jobs, our lives and drug use spiraled out of control. There were many fights. I was beaten and suffocated for not following his directions. After being thrown out in the middle of the night, I awoke a few days later in a psychiatric clinic. I do not remember how I got there. The staff was willing to help me get into a drug rehab, but I did not stay long enough. As soon as my pager went off, I left. My boyfriend was coming to get me. The patient's at the clinic tried to talk me into staying, but I was not ready to get clean. Two weeks after we married, I learned I was pregnant again. When I was five months along I was so skinny I did not show. However, I could feel my baby kicking when I was getting high.
I denied the cycle of drug abuse, violence and hopelessness. I was irrational. Insanity is defined as repeating the same actions over and over, expecting a different result. I was certainly insane. My husband insisted that I use meth as he did: intravenously. I was scared to use a needle, scared to hurt my unborn baby, even though I was still snorting and smoking meth. I could not stop. My baby boy was born in January of 2002. I used right up until days before his birth.
A particularly vicious fight resulted in my husband choking me. I thought I was going to die. I was scared to do anything. In my own sick way, I was so dependent on him. It was reported to the police and he went back to jail. Once again, I hit bottom. I asked God to please help me. I was so scared of losing my newborn. The help I asked for came in the form of an invitation to an anonymous groups spring campout. At the La Jolla Indian Reservation campground in California, on May 4, 2002, I got clean.
The next four months were spent going to meetings, working on staying clean one minute at a time. I self admitted to rehab in September of 2002. I stayed for nine months. Upon completion, I was accepted into a transitional housing program and I was assigned a case manager to help me rebuild my life. With the staffs' help, I enrolled in a medical assisting course.
Immediately after graduation, I secured a well-paying job. In February 2004, I moved into my own apartment. I divorced my husband. In September of 2006, I decided it was time to come to Ohio to build a relationship with my oldest daughter, provide a better environment for my youngest son and work towards having visits with my oldest son.
My career goal is to work from home as a medical transcriptionist. With the medical knowledge I have now, I have a good foundation to build on. My educational goal is to obtain a degree that will enable me to work from home. I plan to contribute financially to my family and be available for them when they need me. My goal is to have all my children together. I love them.
An online education is the right choice for me because it allows me to put my family first. It is so important to me that I earn my children's respect. I want them to see me as a survivor of abuse and addiction, rather than one ruined by it. Educating myself is a way for me to tell my kids "I'm sorry." With education I can become a better mother. Being available for them and being a good role model is, in my opinion, the best amends I can make to them.