The Sun Always Rises in the East

She sat in the general room, in her favorite spot, the bench seat in front of the window. It was a cold damp rain pelting the window today, matching her mood. Since checking in to Sun Valley Rehabilitation Center for at risk youths, Jessie's mood was erractic. One minute she would be on top of the world, the next she would be dark and depressed. The clinicians told her it was part of the process of getting clean and sober. After the physical withdrawals from kicking a hundred dollar a day heroin habit had passed, she still struggled with the emotional and psychological triggers that wanted her running out the door, away from this unfamiliar place she now called home.

"90 days". She mumbled to herself, half thinking out loud half affirmation. She had to do it this time. She had run out of excuses of who she was "doing it for". The first time she tried to detox she came in with the mindset of. " I'll do it for my mom. I'm tired of hearing her cry herself to sleep in the next room every night". The second time was " If I love Jim and want him to come back from college to see a brand new me, I'll get it right this time." The third time it was simply to keep her butt out of jail when faced with a felony charge of larceny for shoplifting 500$ worth of merchandise to feed her demon or go to state mandated rehab. But not this time, this time it was just for Jessie. She was just so tired of chasing the money to get the drugs, and the process of doing the drugs and then chasing it all over again. Day in, day out. She knew there had to be a better way to live. She had been spiraling steadily down into an abyss she thought she would never climb out of.

Many nights was she out there on the streets with different men trading her body for just one more hit. Many days she stand outside by one of the large box stores holding a cardboard sign asking for money to get just one more bag. She lied, stole and cheated anyone. Nothing was off limits, as long as she got what she needed.

Then late last night she awoke in the Emergency Room attached to all kinds of machines and looking over at her mother, eyes red and puffy from crying, slumped in the seat adjacent to her bed. Jessie's arms were strapped down held in place at the rails. A large long tube was down her throat that made her want to gag. But in fact it was necessary for her to breathe and helped her cling to life.

The ER doctor entered her room and said," You are one lucky young lady. We thought we had lost you. It was touch and go for awhile."

That was three days ago after over dosing on heroine laced with cocaine and fentanyl. She never even knew what hit her. This guy from out of state came to her promising her the best high ever and he didn't even want any "favors" in return. Luckily for her she was at one the usual spots that police search regularly. They were accompanied by a social worker offering anyone help to get clean and sober or just a meal for the night. When they found Jessie she was convulsing and foaming from her mouth. They called in paramedics and Narcan was administered to reverse the effects of the overdose.

"How did I get here?" She asked out loud to an empty room. She was thinking about how quickly life's circumstances can put you in a situation you never thought you'd be in. She remembered the first time she took a pain killer. The orthopedist said it would help the pain she felt from breaking her ankle at cheerleading practice. Instantly enjoying the way it not only soothe the physical pain from the fracture, but also, soothing the fracture in her heart since her father died. When the doctors would no longer prescribe her the opiates that she quickly became dependent on she started buying pills on the street increasing in quantities and dosage size. When that no longer was feasible Jessie discovered heroin,faster and cheaper, and twice the bang for your buck.That was six years ago. What happened.? She pondered.

Just then a clinician in a white lab coat entered the room holding a clipboard and pen. She didn't look much older than Jessie. She said her name was Sarah and she would be her peer recovery coach. She went on to explain that not so long ago she was in the same predicament that Jessie was in right now, except that her drug of choice was crack. She told Jessie her story of how she started doing crack to ease the pain from being molested at the ages of seven to around Fifteen.They began talking and Sarah assured her that with hard work and perseverance that one day Jessie will be whole again, she could do anything she wanted and perhaps give back by becoming a recovery coach too.

Over the next several weeks Jessie attended groups covering topics of self love and setting boundaries. She saw a therapist to work through the grief from her fathers death. She spent a lot of time with Sarah. She learned how to meditate to ease her anxiety and dig yoga to help strengthen her ailing body. Jessie found that she loved to paint. She could let all her emotions onto the canvas in bold colors. When she was in a good mood her colors would be bright yellows, pinks and blues. When her mood was gloomy she would paint in dark hues of black, crims and greys.

Of course, Jessie struggled too. She had night sweats and nightmares, loneliness and regrets would creep into her thoughts, and most of all the urge to use. But slowly, step by step, she began to find out who she really was. She knew that she was given another chance at life, and she was going to do something great with it.

At the end of ninety days Jessie with her head held up high and with a new perspective towards life walked out into the sunshine, with Sara by her side.