The first time I met her I was walking around the track. She was young, just 25 years old.
She didn't waste any time getting to the nitty gritty.
She began to tell me the first time she shot up with heroin was when she was twelve years old.
Twelve years old!!! (That deserves a triple exclamation point)
Twelve year olds aren't even considered a teenagers yet.
I thought of my daughter at twelve and what she was doing. I thought of myself and what I was doing at twelve. Most likely playing with barbies still.
My heart filled with compassion for her. I wanted to take her in my arms and protect this precious one from the evil's of the world.
But she went onto tell me that it was her own father that shot her up and her mother provided weed for her.
Inside I was screaming, "Are you kidding me?!?!" Your parents are the ones that are suppose to protect you, not expose you to it!
I stayed calm, as if I wasn't even phased by it.
She said she was tired from using all these years. She wanted to stop. She even prayed to God that He would help her to quit.
As we were walking and talking I noticed a deep, purple vein in her neck. She was quite a bit shorter than I so I had to look down somewhat as I would look at her. I didn't say anything about it but I didn't have to, she brought up her veins.
She went onto tell me she had used all the veins in her body and the last ones she had to use were in her neck. All her old ones had blown.
She told me her dad was in the hospital and was very sick. She was concerned he was going to die. She needed to be there for him. But in a sick and twisted way she went onto to share that it was't just her parents that were users in her family, but it was her grandfather too!
She nonchalantly shared with me that her father and grandfather and her all shot up together.
I'm still flabbergasted by this!
And we wonder why addicts can't break the cycle. ''Cause saying goodbye to using means saying goodbye to her family.
She told me that in one year alone, she had been in and out of jail 9 times. Out of her own mouth she said, "What I need is rehab not jail time."
As our conversation ended and she sat down to rest, I continued around the track. I couldn't help but think of all that she told me. What kept repeating in my brain was how thirteen years of her life she had used heroin. Thirteen years of her life had been stolen from her. For thirteen years all her hopes and dreams and aspirations had been snuffed out by this evil drug, all wrapped in a pretty, bow tied package that equaled love and connection with her family.
I never did get her name but my heart still breaks for her and I wonder where she is? I wonder about her little, broken body...how much longer can it handle this abuse?
Wherever you are Track Star, I'm thinking and praying for you.
If our paths cross again, I'll be there to walk you home, your true home, filled with love and safety and protection.
Peace and Love,