Every single story that i read, about life around, with, and on P...is the same. Nearly word for word. There are variations, and different degrees of the havoc that it has caused in people's lives...but the story is always the same.
Listening to stories, of people that have been addicted to meth, reminds me of sitting through movies like Titanic, and Pearl Harbour...what's the point? We already know how it is going to end. You still do it anyway though.
Dead. Prison. Recovery.
Those are the three choices that everyone has, once they become addicted to P.
This lady's story, is like listening to my own. Especially the part where her home got bulldozed, but she knew there was a reason for that happening. She knew that she needed to never go back to that home, where the same lifestyle and people were waiting for her. She lost everything. Just like i had. Just like me, she was lucky enough to have had someone care for her children, and let them straight back into her life, once she was better.
A warning for people that get all butt hurt over religious references...this woman talks a lot about God and how God saved her. That is something else, that her and i have in common. I truly believe that God was looking after me, and still does, every single second of every single day.
For that, i am grateful.