Facing Addiction in East Central Indiana

Facing Addiction

in East Central Indiana

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Page 32 Photo by Stephanie Amador

Facing Addiction

in East Central Indiana

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s t n e t n o Table of C

Page 19 Photo by Stephanie Amador

Our Sponsors pages 5-6 Drug Slang page 7 Where Can I Get Help? page 8 Artificial Happiness Devin Thorp’s story, pages 9-10 A Sister’s Struggle Destiny McDermott’s story, pages 11-12 Between Life and Death pages 13-14 Life-Saving Drug Counteracts Effects of Opioid Overdose pages 15-16 My Views of Addiction Throughout my Policing Career for 30+ Years Sheriff Scott Mellinger’s story, pages 17-18 Paving a Road to Recovery Al Adams’ story, pages 19-20 Extreme Makeover: Meth House Edition pages 21-22 The Sight of Hope Leads to a Happy Life Rhea Graham’s story, pages 23-26

From Aggravation to Being an Inspiration Brian Graham’s story, pages 27-30 The Definition of Insanity Tom Sloan’s story, pages 31-32 Vivitrol Offers New Method to Treat Addiction pages 33-34 Finding Hope Kelsea Boone’s story, pages 35-36 My Void Ashlee Dotterer’s story, pages 37-38 The Fifth Vital Sign pages 39-40 Ingelhart Scholars pages 41-42 Thank You/Acknowledgments pages 43-44 Ending the Stigma pages 45-46

Page 35 Photo by Stephanie Amador Pages 23 & 27 Photo by Stephanie Amador

Our Sponsors

The Facing Project is a nonprofit organization that connects people through stories to strengthen communities. Every community has its unique challenges, and The Facing Project inspires communities to organize and share the stories of citizens through the talent of local writers and actors.

It also provides the tools necessary to develop projects so that community organizers can easily showcase the stories to bring attention to and create a dialogue around issues and topic areas within a community.

Founded in 2012 in Muncie, Indiana, by Kelsey Timmerman and J.R. Jamison, The Facing Project has spread to over 75 communities nationwide, resulting in more than 20,000 books centered on hyperlocal issues such as cancer, depression, autism and poverty.

More information is available at the website: www. facingproject.com.

Facing Addiction represents the third iteration of an ongoing alliance between The Facing Project and the Louis E. Ingelhart Scholars Program in the Department of Journalism at Ball State University. Dr. Adam Kuban, director of the Scholars Program, first contributed as a writer to Facing Disabilities in East Central Indiana.

This is the third project he has subsequently directed since 2014, bringing together a total of 43 writers — and 31 of them are undergraduate students — and over a dozen multimedia contributors to learn more about their neighbors, understanding and chronicling their struggles and successes to promote greater empathy.

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A second community partner committed to Facing Addiction is Meridian Health Services, a nonprofit organization accredited by the Joint Commission and certified by the Indiana Division of Mental Health and Addictions, “specializing in ‘whole person’ health, integrating physical, mental and social well-being.” Among other services, Meridian offers Addiction Treatment options, including support groups, aftercare services as well as their Intensive Outpatient Program.

This partner has locations in Anderson, Connersville, Dunkirk, Fort Wayne, Indianapolis, Kokomo, Mishawaka, Muncie, New Castle, Portland, Richmond, Rushville and Winchester.

More information is available at the website: www. meridianhs.org. Our partner contact for Facing Addiction, Scott Smalstig, is the vice president for Fund Development.

One community partner committed to Facing Addiction is Aspire Indiana, Inc., a “fully integrated health system that addresses all aspects of health, including primary care, behavioral health, and the social determinants of health such as housing and employment.” Within this agency exists an Addiction Services program, where an addict develops a personal and confidential plan with a counseling professional to support his/her recovery.

This partner has locations in Anderson, Carmel, Elwood, Indianapolis, Noblesville and Lebanon.

Aspire Indiana, Inc., currently employs roughly 500 people, including our partner contacts for Facing Addiction: Susie Maier, director of Business Development, and Kevin Sheward, a grant writer for this nonprofit. More information is available at the website: www.aspireindiana.org.

A third community partner committed to Facing Addiction is Muncie Action Plan (MAP). From its website, the nonprofit MAP “promotes, supports, encourages, and assists in the development and enhancement of the quality of life in Muncie, Indiana.” Facing Addiction specifically expands upon Task Force 1: Linking Learning, Health & Prosperity, which represents one of five task forces that comprise MAP, each with specific actions designed to improve the community. The others include: Fostering Collaboration, Strengthening Pride & Image, Managing Community Resources, and Creating Attractive, Desirable Places. Formed in 2009-2010, MAP is currently led by Aimee Fant. More information is available at the website: muncieactionplan.net.

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Drug Slang

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lang terms occur throughout the English language. Each generation has a tendency to introduce new terms that eventually become part of our mainstream vocabulary. But this is not just a creative phenomenon for teenagers. Instead, groups of people can use slang terms as their secret communication device — which is often the case among those who use drugs, according to “What You Need to Know About Common Drug Slang.” Some may use these different terms to deter suspicion from them in public. The amount of slang terms used for a single drug is constantly growing, and this makes it even harder for authorities to “crack the code” and put an end to the trade.

The misuse of prescription drugs can have the same effects as common street drugs. Over-the-counter drugs such as cough medicine can cause damage too.

The 12 Keys Rehab is a certified rehab center in Florida that strives to help patients beat their addiction. These professionals say that slang terms can be shortened versions of the actual drug name or can result from the color of the substance. Terms such as the ones depicted in the corresponding image have been intended as communication tools for those involved in the buying and selling of drugs.

Where Can I Get Help?

By Sam Mattlin Graphic by Kaylie McKee

W

ithin the Indiana Government database, there are addiction services searchable by county. On the website, there is a map of Indiana. Find your county and click on it. This will reveal rehab centers that are in your area or close to your area. The database has the name of the center, its address and its phone number to call for more information. Follow this link: http://www.in.gov/fssa/ dmha/2578.htm.

This map is not exhaustive.

There are other services and organizations available throughout Indiana. This map merely demonstrates the existence of addiction services near you. You can find other resources at: www.indianacouncil.org.

Northeastern Indiana

North Central Indiana

Life Treatment Centers 574-233-5433 1402 South Michigan St. South Bend, IN 46613

Northwestern Indiana

Porter Starke Services 219-531-3500 601 Wall St. Valparaiso, IN 46383

Lower Northwest Indiana

Park Center INC 260-481-2700 909 East State Blvd.

Fort Wayne, IN 46805 Grant Blackford Mental Health INC 765-662-3971 505 N Wabash Ave. Marion, IN 46952

Wabash Valley Alliance INC 765-423-2638 2900 North River Road West Lafayette, IN 47906

East Central Indiana

Indianapolis

West Central Indiana Hamilton Center 812-231-8323 620 8 Avenue Terre Haute, IN 47804

Aspire Indiana 1-877-574-1254 9615 E 148th St. Suite 1 Noblesville, IN 46060

Central Southwest Indiana Amethyst House 812-336-3570 645 N Walnut St. Bloomington, IN 47404

Southwestern Indiana Southwestern Behavioral Health, INC 812-423-7791 415 Mulberry St. Evansville, IN 47713

Meridian Health Services 765-288-1928 240 N Tillotson Ave. Muncie, IN 47304

Adult & Child Mental Health Center INC 877-882-5122 8320 Madison Ave. Indianapolis, IN 46227

Central Southeast Indiana

Community Mental Health Center 812-537-0194 285 Bielby Road Lawrenceburg, IN 47025

Southeastern Indiana Lifespring 812-280-2080 460 Spring St. Jeffersonville, IN 47130

Artificial Happiness

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Devin Thorp’s story written by Samantha Mattlin

believe in artificial happiness. That is the only thing I have known. You don’t understand or know how it is to have nothing.

It made me forget.

Drinking and smoking made me happy, and that’s better than feeling empty and hopeless.

Photo by Kaylie McKee

There isn’t a lot of real happiness because of my childhood. I was with my mom ‘til I was 7, and then I was in a custody battle. My dad all of a sudden wanted me. From age 3-7, it was constant back and forth.

I ended up with my dad who abused me. I just let it happen. This is when I started drinking. I was 12.

My dad was dependent on alcohol, and it’s all I saw.

I ran away. My life had nothing left of it.

This is when I started smoking. When I smoked, I began to mix other drugs or alcohol with it ‘cause why not. I liked the way it felt when I was using.

It made me forget. Drinking and smoking made me happy, and that’s better than feeling empty and hopeless.

So I ran away and moved around from house to house. I never really had a place to call home. No one really wanted me. This was before the summer of 2015.

I was 16.

This was the summer where I said “fuck life.”

*** I drank myself to the hospital … and I knew it was time to change.

That summer, I met some hippies, and this was the big kickoff for drug use.

Man, the hippies were cool! I felt like I found people who had the same mind as me. We drove to Eagle Creek, a local park in Indy, and the view was beautiful …Dude, the water was so blue! The next morning, I started tripping, and everything just got better.

It is a feeling you can never replace. You just forget about all the cares in the world. I stayed with them for a week, and then I wanted to go find my mom. I don’t know why, but I just wanted to see her.

I found her and stayed with her for a little while. *** I went to school for a few months, but then I got expelled. This is when I met my girlfriend at the time, Megan.

Man, do I love her! I would do anything for her.

She knew about my past and tried to change me.

It didn’t work, though, because now I’m in this youth-detention facility. The reason I’m here is because I hit my mom. I don’t know why I did it. It was just a reflex.

She called the cops on me. We had this rule where we don’t call the cops on each other. She broke that. *** It came to the end of the summer of 2016, and now I’m here. I’m 17 years old and in a facility with other boys my age.

I got here because what else do I have to live for … I don’t have a lot to lose either. Life just happens.

But I am done with this shit. It sucks in here, and I am ready to go. It took me to come here to realize I can’t do everything I have been doing. I mean, I am not saying I will stop, but I’ll calm it down.

I haven’t had any visitors during my time here, but I’m almost done here so who cares.

I don’t value myself. I don’t care about me. I care about others sometimes. It’s just hard letting people in. Because once you let them in, it’s hard to let them go.

It’s hard not seeing Megan. It might be the hardest thing about this. I regret not seeing her before I got in here. That’s my only regret.

Well, I guess I also regret how fucked up my brother is. It could be a little bit because of me.

He always saw me drinking and angry when I was around him. One time, I punched him so hard he threw up. He’s seen a lot more than he should at his age.

He’s 11.

He’ll end up like me or worse. He doesn’t have any feelings. He cares less than I do.

But I do hate being in here. I wish I could change some of it. I don’t like my life with drugs, but I like the stories. My life doesn’t suck; there is just nothing in my life to care for. *** If I could be one thing in the world, it would be a chemist. I know I can be that, and one day, I will be that; it’s just not in the near future for me. But the only thing I can do now is wait.

There’s not a lot in my life right now, ya know?

People look at me and are like, “You don’t know what you’re doing with your life. You have no plan.”

It forced me to have a plan. I don’t care what plan it is — I really don’t — but it makes me want one. I could get shot in the head tomorrow and not care. I know no one out there cares about me, so why should I? I would love to have real happiness in my life than this artificial happiness I got. But artificial is all I have to compare to.

Artificial is my view of happiness and how I want to see myself. Drugs are artificial to a point. You create the happiness you want to escape from it all.

Addiction is a lifestyle, and it can happen to anybody. You don’t think it can happen to you, but it can. Your life begins to center around it because it’s something you grow to need.

It’s just the moments of weakness or the environment you put yourself in. When you’re around something all the time, it is easy to become addicted.

I don’t want to be a user my whole life, but it’s been a part of my life. It’ll always be something that is inside of me.

I’m trying to lean off of drugs, but I don’t think I will ever become clean. It is a part of who I am, but I don’t want it to be all of me.

Drinking and smoking makes me happy. It’s not the best thing in the world, but that’s better than feeling empty.

That’s why I say my stories happily. That’s why I laugh when I talk about my life. I say it like that because being fucked up or drunk or high or being whatever … no matter how much it fucks with the people around you or fucks with yourself, it’s better than dealing with your own shit.

It’s way fucking better.

It’s better than feeling a bunch of stuff you don’t want to feel about yourself, and that’s the honest answer.

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A Sister’s Struggle

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Destiny McDermott’s story written by Alexandra Smith

t was a Saturday night. My husband and I sat down to watch the 10 o’clock news for some reason. I don’t know. And it was, like, breaking news, and they showed my brother Joey’s picture, and I almost fainted. I screamed, and my husband and kids came running.

He had been on a binge for maybe two or three weeks. In the middle of that night, he had held up a pharmacy and robbed it.

He has no recollection to this day that he even did it. He was so high on heroin that he had no idea.

My brother was married eight years ago, and he had a little boy, and he built a house, and he had a wonderful job and was on top of the world.

And every day the pressures got to him. He never came out and said it, but I could tell on his face he was just going through the motions of daily life.

He started to party with friends a lot on the weekends. He started doing drugs and just spiraled out of control.

That night, the police were on the hunt for him. We were on the phone with him all night long. I wanted to keep him on the phone; I just wanted to hear his voice.

We talked about anything I could think of: life in general, my kids, him getting help.

They ended up catching him, but he didn’t have any weapons with him, and thankfully they didn’t have to shoot. But he served seven years in prison for that.

He graduated from a rehabilitation program and with two certificates to be a personal trainer. He was doing great. He got his GED. When he got out, he was doing really well for over a year.

And then it started all over again.

I don’t know what he tries to run from. He’s said before he’s running from demons, but I don’t know where they’re from.

It is an absolutely helpless feeling knowing that someone you love goes through struggles like this from day to day, and there isn’t anything you can do about it. *** When Joey and my other brother, Tony, were around 13 and 14 years old, they started to dabble with marijuana, and then it was pills, and then Tony

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I don’t want somebody looking at my brother like he’s nobody. was drinking, and Joey had started with heroin.

Tony loves to drink, but he would never admit to being an alcoholic. He’s functioning, though. He gets up and goes to work every single day — he’ll never miss a day of work. But he still drinks every single day.

There was nothing really bad going on back when the boys were young, so I don’t know if it was just their choice all of a sudden to pick up and start experimenting with this stuff.

Our mom went through a nasty divorce, but they didn’t really realize what was going on because they were so much younger than I was. I’m 12-13 years older than they are, so I sheltered them from a lot of that.

There were years between when the divorce happened and when they started getting into trouble.

I wish I could just slide inside their heads and figure out what their lows are. I don’t know what they try to run from.

I try and help them as much as possible. We keep in touch and have positive talks. My family and I FaceTime my brother Joey when we can — especially around the holidays.

When Joey does well, he’s so happy. It makes me happy. I love to see when he’s got that confidence.

He’s a people-person; people just navigate to him; they want to talk with him. Anything he says, he’s just hilarious. He’s so funny, and he’s smart, and he’s such a good-looking guy.

Then all of a sudden, after a few months of him doing well, he’s right back out again.

The night Joey was on the run, he never left Indianapolis. When we were on the phone, he led me to believe he was on the run.

My mom was the one who told me differently. She said, “You know a drug addict never goes far from their drug dealer.”

I didn’t know that. You could find drugs anywhere.

I still don’t know if it’s true or not, but Joey didn’t leave wherever he was, so there must have been something keeping him.

Maybe he’ll decide here in a few days that he needs help, and he can walk into any rehabilitation center.

He lives in Boston right now; he had job opportunities there after he got out, and most of his family is there.

He has access to some of the best rehabilitation facilities in the U.S. I’m just hoping one day that he will find something that will give him the passion to turn this addiction around because I don’t know what it’s gonna take.

I hope he doesn’t become a statistic, but that’s on him. That’s his decision if he wants to stop. In this game he’s playing, it’s either you live or you die: one or the other. I hope he gets help before it becomes too late.

We tried finding him help here in Indiana before moving him back to Boston, but there’s no resources here. If we had more resources to help people, it would save a lot of lives.

We need more facilities in Indiana to help the heroin epidemic. There are a few places, but the waiting list is just too long. There are no rehab centers for people to go, and that’s why they end up on the street again.

The families here are tired and have no means to care for their family. It’s extremely frustrating to me.

Addicts and alcoholics: They don’t just wake up one day and decide this is what they want to do.

Nobody’s going to say, “Oh doing drugs or drinking alcohol was the best thing I ever did.”

You’re not weak; you’re not a lowlife or a loser or an idiot because you do drugs. That’s not the case. It’s a sickness, and it’s an illness, and it’s a disease that they can’t help.

Photo by Alexandra Smith

There can also be underlying reasons for addiction.

I believe Joey has depression, anxiety and ADHD that was never treated. And he could also be bipolar because when he’s up, he’s up, and when he’s down, he’s very down.

But I think until those issues are dealt with, alcoholism and that drug addiction are never going to stop.

I used to think, “If they would just stop drinking or doing drugs, then…” but you can’t “just stop.” They can’t do that.

I don’t want somebody looking at my brother like he’s nobody. He has loved ones; he has a family that cares about him.

And that goes for all addicts and drug users.

They’re people with families, children, careers and very bright futures. But they made bad choices, and unfortunately, not everyone who tries drugs can kick that habit.

I wish things were different for my family. I wish we were closer, and I could be more involved with Joey and Tony. I made the decision to move to Indiana 23 years ago to start my life with my husband, and I don’t regret that.

But my mom called me almost 20 years ago and asked if my brothers could live with us, but at that time, we didn’t have the means to take care of them.

I sometimes wonder if things would have been different in their lives if we had taken them to live with us.

Between Life and Death

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Written by Garrett Looker

n the nights when David Huston is on duty, he waits for a signal to tell him that things have gone wrong.

He preps the ambulance, finishes paperwork … and he waits. He waits for the alarm that tells him that someone is on the verge of life and death.

He is waiting for his overdose call.

“Overdoses are often dispatched out as an unconscious [person], so you know something’s gone wrong,” said Huston, a Ball State junior who volunteers for Albany EMS. The people addicted to these drugs, most often heroin or other opioids, are normal people, making it through each day, Huston said. They are people who feel and hope.

Paramedics and EMTs like David Huston find them at their lowest point, addicted and overdosed, but it is their job to save them.

Time is everything to the crew: both their ally and their enemy.

“It takes six minutes for the brain to start to die,” said Robin Smith, National Registered Advanced EMT for Albany EMS. “Once you have brain loss, it’s permanent. It doesn’t regenerate. After six minutes, there’s no going back. There’s no chance of ever being the person you were before.”

Naloxone, known informally as Narcan, is an EMT’s main defense while on a call regarding opioid overdose. Narcan, supplied on every ambulance, is a drug that prohibits opioid effects on the brain, completely ending the high and returning the patient back to consciousness.

“Narcan is a mute opioid receptor antagonist,” said Huston. “It prevents heroin or whatever opioid from binding to the ventilation receptors in the medulla oblongata [in the brain], which are responsible for the respiratory drive. It prevents heroin from stopping the lungs from breathing.”

In the past decade, the use of heroin and other painkilling drugs has spiked in communities like Albany, a small town of 2,165 in northern Delaware County.

“Four years ago, we never had an overdose call,” said Smith. “Then heroin started to pick up.”

According to the U.S. Center for Disease Control, 1,245 Hoosiers died via drug overdose in 2015.

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Every time you go in and somebody’s dead, I think, ‘They were alone when they died.’

Nationally, drug overdoses have risen by 200 percent since 2000.

With data from the U.S. Census Bureau, when compared to 11 other Midwestern states, Indiana ranked third for most fatalities connected to drug overdoses.

The issue of addiction in the Midwest is one that continues to affect more people every year. It is an issue that is unfolding in front of the world, but it is a world that many do not want to look at, said Spencer Sabinske, an EMT for Blackford County EMS. “I don’t think that a lot of people understand how [addicts] live,” said Sabinske. “You go into a trailer that’s 10 years out-of-date and falling apart, and a person’s inside with a couple thousand dollars’ worth of drugs. That’s how they survive for years on end.

“This is a really small community that we’re in, like, an ‘everyone knows everyone’ kind of thing. The police don’t have the resources to deal with this. I think it’s a problem in rural communities especially.”

The issue of drugs and addiction is not a problem of law enforcement and medical care; instead, it’s a problem of community and personal ideology, Smith said.

“We’ve gotten to a point in our society that we have to [say], ‘It’s not your fault; it’s everyone else’s fault,’” said Smith. “Instead of holding everybody accountable for what they do or don’t do, we want to blame everybody else. I think that what is lacking is [personal] morals and values.”

The effects of addiction run deep in the communities where it is found. Not only does it affect the user, but it also impacts the men and women of the medical field who work to save them.

Smith continued with the divisiveness of drugs and addiction. When addicts are at their lowest moment in life, they are alone, Smith said.

“Every time you go in and somebody’s dead, I think, ‘They were alone when they died.’”

Photo by Garrett Looker

Photo by Garrett Looker

Photo by Garrett Looker

Photo by Garrett Looker

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Photo by Stephanie Amador

Life-Saving Drug Counteracts Effects of Opioid Overdose

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Written by Chris Bavender t seems almost every day the news is filled with stories of first responders using Naloxone – more commonly known as Narcan – to treat someone suspected of overdosing on an opioid. Narcan counteracts the life-threatening effects of opioid overdose. Originally developed for first responders, it’s now available over-the-counter (OTC) at a large number of Indiana pharmacies thanks to Aaron’s Law.

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Signed in April 2015, Aaron’s Law allowed Indiana residents to get a prescription for Narcan if they believed someone they knew was at risk of an opioid overdose. The law was expanded in March 2016 to allow for OTC sales. One of the primary forces behind the law, Justin Phillips, was on-hand that day to watch then Gov. Mike Pence sign the law – a law named after her son, Aaron Sims, who died of a heroin overdose in October 2013. He was just 20 years old.

“We sent him to treatment and did all the things we thought we should do, but we just didn’t understand opioids at all,” Phillips said. “Aaron did well but then lost a friend in February of 2013 to an overdose. He indicated at that time how much that encouraged his recovery, but he started using again somewhere in August or September and overdosed and died in October.” In 2014, Phillips founded Overdose Lifeline, a 501(c)(3) nonprofit focused on impacting the opioid epidemic through education, harm reduction, prevention and support.

“Part of my mission is also to address the shame and stigma. Addiction is a chronic disease just like cancer, but we don’t treat loved ones with addiction with the same sense of urgency as cancer,” she said. “I had some guilt that I let shame and stigma stand in my way, so I don’t want that to happen to anyone else.”

So, Phillips started to raise money to provide Narcan to first responders and put Narcan kits together to give to families or friends of people battling opiate addiction. Then she turned her attention to her neighbor, Indiana Sen. Jim Merritt, to try to get a law put into place. “I knew Sen. Merritt was very active in the Lifeline Law and cared very much about it and thought he would be supportive, but I couldn’t get through to him, and I was frustrated,” Phillips said. “So, I made it a mission of mine that when I saw him I was going to bring it up.

One day he was walking his dogs, and I approached him [and] asked why he hadn’t responded to my messages and told him he needed to pay attention to this issue — that I needed his help with it. And, that was the beginning.”

Fast forward to that day in March 2016 when a stroke of the pen by Pence made Narcan available over-the-counter through a statewide standing order issued by the Indiana State Department of Health. In

Addiction is a chronic disease just like cancer, but we don’t treat loved ones with addiction with the same sense of urgency as cancer.

Muncie, a larger number of pharmacies, including the Indiana University Health Retail Pharmacy sites, have Naloxone available.

“We carry the Narcan kit, which has two nasal dispensers prefilled, has great usage instructions, including a good YouTube video, and is very easy to use if needed by a patient. It runs about $135 for the kit,” said Max Barnhart, RPh, Administrative Director, IU Health Retail Pharmacy Network. “There are also individual prefilled syringes that you can purchase with a nasal aspirator. Two syringes and the aspirator will run around $75 or so.”

But, to date, Barnhart said they have not had anyone come into the retail pharmacy at Indiana University Health Ball Memorial Hospital to purchase OTC Narcan. While critics have said making Narcan available OTC encourages addicts to continue to use, Phillips said it’s actually the opposite. “There is research behind that myth that says it’s not true.

This is where it’s difficult to put it in words … part of opioid addiction is the miserable withdrawal. Typically when they’re that far into their addiction, they’re no longer experiencing any pleasure but just keeping withdrawal symptoms away,” she said. “They don’t want to use, but they also don’t want to go through withdrawal, so they’re stuck in a bad circle and ashamed. We judge them and fight with them about using. But when you introduce a change of language and let them know you’re aware they don’t want to use, but if they are, to please let you help keep them alive, then the whole dynamic shifts.” If you are an Indiana resident, then you can call 1.844.NARCAN.8 (844.627.2268) to order Narcan Nasal Spray through the CVS.com Home Delivery Pharmacy.

For more information on pharmacies in your area registered with the State of Indiana to dispense the drug without a prescription, visit the Indiana Department of Health website at optin.in.gov/. For more information on Phillips’ organization, visit www. overdose-lifeline.org/.

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Photo by Stephanie Amador

My Views of Addiction Throughout my Policing Career for 30+ Years

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Sheriff Scott Mellinger’s story written by Ryan Flanery

ewind to 1980: As a young street cop, I started every eight-hour shift with the mindset of being a hardass. Sipping on a hot, black coffee and talking with the guys before starting a shift builds up me up for the streets. Sitting in my Madison-County, police-decaled, twotone-brown Crown Victoria, I wait for dispatch to send me calls so I could do my job. I got the call from dispatch: two drunks throwing punches at the local bar just down the road from the Madison County Jail. Time to clean it up. With two Crown Victorias racing down the street, with the strobe lights pulsing the reds, whites and blues alongside the screaming sirens, the city knew we were coming. Upon arrival, the officers and I observe the scene, arrest the fighting drunks and complete our report.

Back to the streets I go … waiting for the next call. As I patrol the streets, waiting to flip on my lights and sirens again, my mind is thinking about what call would come next or if the radar gun captured the next Jeff Gordon flying past my post on Indiana Route 32. Dispatch: “Nearest patrol, we have a possible overdose at the gas station on Route 32 and Jackson Street.” Mellinger: “Dispatch, got it. I am a mile

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away. Send back up.” At the scene, paramedics are assessing the individual, who is coming in and out of a haze influenced by an unknown substance. My concern when I talk with the paramedic is if this person going to the hospital or going in the back of my car. Paramedics told me the individual was all mine. I cuff the druggy, load them in my car, drop them off in the jail and complete my report.

Back to the streets I go, waiting for the next call, not caring about the individuals I put behind bars because — number one — I must do my job, and number two, I did not understand those individuals’ circumstances, so I did not care.

Fast forward to 2016 where, as the Sheriff of Madison County, I have learned that we do not approach this addiction epidemic in the correct manner. We were not unreasonable with how we approached addicts in the past. Just ignorant.

When I was a street cop, I thought “these people” did it to themselves and were just getting high for the fun of it, wasting my time and their lives. My mind never thought about why they started using in the first place. I never once thought about if addicts had a mental illness holding them back or if a rough

childhood led them to my handcuffs. I was ignorant.

People care about these individuals. People want to help them get better. The problem is those people willing to help these addicts don’t know how to help them, and most communities don’t have the resources to help them.

I began to ask myself… Why do people do this to themselves? Why do people repeatedly do this to themselves? What is the point of their substance abuse? It took me a while to realize that many people addicted to drugs or alcohol are not addicted to the feeling. They are addicted to the void that is filled with being under the influence of whichever drug they choose. That drug fills such a deep void that these addicts go to desperate measures to fill this indescribable pain.

Addicts hit a point with their addiction where they are not using to just get high. At this point, addicts use substances to avoid a desperate low. A desperate low that takes control over how an addict lives every second of their day. They cannot even imagine sleep or eating if they have not had their shot of heroin, sip of alcohol, or smoke of crack.

I see these addicts in our holding cells everyday.

Wearing the orange jump suit, they lie on the cold concrete floor with a large pale of water next to them, helping their detox. I may have changed my policing ideologies from the 1980s, but our policing framework still tends to encompass three options when dealing with addicts: 1. Continue enforcement and jail, i.e., similar to my 1980 Rewind; 2. Place some but not all of these addicts into a rehab program … but are there enough resources? 3.

Addicts continue to walk the streets, sometimes committing crime to get high, which allows them to fill their void but doesn’t correct the problem.

Jailing addicts does not work. There is no hope in jail. The faces in jail have no hope. The outlook of jail has no hope. But we still try and help. The state supplies funding to Madison County for the most desperate of addicts and mentally ill inmates within our jail, but we need more. We provide treatment and counselors for these addicts to help them while locked up. This treatment plan has two goals, but it needs a third. These goals are to: 1. Help these addicts and mentally ill cope, because there is no hope in jail 2.

Develop an exit plan from their addiction for after jail because there may be nowhere else to go.

All the treatment is within their time in jail. After leaving jail, these addicts typically have no place to go. I have talked to countless addicts, and they all tell me the same thing: “I am scared of what is outside those doors. I have nowhere to go besides drugs.”

We must give addicts hope for a new life: possibilities of life after their addiction so they have a purpose and a safe place to live.

Without hope, addicts will go back to using because they have no vision of what life could be without their addiction.

That is the third step — providing a place for these individuals to go after their time in jail and our treatment program. Without it, they will most likely go back to their addiction. We must give addicts hope for a new life: possibilities of life after their addiction so they have a purpose and a safe place to live. Without hope, addicts will go back to using because they have no vision of what life could be without their addiction. There is only one solution. In order to give addicts hope, the general public must realize that addiction is a community issue, and if we want to help fix it, we need community-driven solutions. I understand why the general public does not want to do that. They do not want to see their taxes dollars go to a drug addict. The general public does not see how drug addiction in their community affects them individually. What the general public needs to realize is that it is affecting them. They just don’t get it. For example, look at the closed gas stations, grocery stores and dwindling homes… Drug addiction is driving away our community.

There are people that have the information in front of them… There are people that see this as a problem… But they are not doing anything about it because the public is not behind it.

If the general public pitches in, puts their heels in the dirt, stand both feet in the ground and pledge to fixing this problem… Then we may give legislators the courage to legislate what needs to be legislated. I was a legislator in District 37 of Madison County from 1999-2002. It is all about re-election: If the public doesn’t care about addiction, then why should I? I need to get re-elected. I am going to get behind what the public wants me to get behind.

I was wrong. If the general public does not get behind the addiction crisis, if the communities affected by these drugs stay silent, then what gives one the courage to get behind and fight the addiction epidemic? Our public needs to get behind the addiction epidemic and demand that our legislators do the same in order to influence change.

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Paving a Road to Recovery Al Adams’ story written by Michelle Kaufman

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work at Meridian Health Services as a licensed clinical-addictions counselor. Most of my time is spent seeing people in group or individual counseling sessions at Meridian.

Some of my time is spent at the Delaware County Jail doing an addiction-treatment program. I meet with a group of inmates twice a week for three hours in the initial phase of the program. I think of my group like a teacher thinks of a classroom: You don’t just go in and run the group off the top of your head. You have a plan, which can include handouts, assignments and discussion topics. The next phase takes place after their release and consists of a year of outpatient follow-up at Meridian. I may see them in individual or group counseling, where the focus is on recovery from addiction and transitioning back into the community.

I start the groups at the Jail with 12 people, but it’s not very often that all 12 finish. This group is closed, which means people don’t join after it has started. On the other hand, my group at Meridian is open, and new people have a specific day of the week to attend their session.

I enjoy working with people and watching them get better. I run into people in the community with whom I’ve worked, and I don’t always remember their name, and I never say their name in public, but I remember their face and ask how they’re doing.

The people I work with at the Jail have acknowledged they have a drug or alcohol problem, and I’m trying to prepare them for their release and re-entry into the community. The Jail staff is

Photo by Stephanie Amador

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Part of the process of recovery is realizing you have to set some boundaries and change your people, places and things. There needs to be a filtering process for the circumstances you put yourself in and the places you go. cooperative because they know Delaware County has a major drug problem. I find the program rewarding, and the vast majority of the people who complete all three stages of the program don’t fail any drug screenings or re-offend, so we’re doing something right. Some of them do play the system, and that can be frustrating. Someone can’t do the drug program more than once. If they drop out, then they have my information and need to demonstrate initiative and reach out to me on their own when they get out.

The advantage I have that people in the court system, such as judges and probation officers, don’t have is that they don’t see the successes, and I do.

They see the revolving door of repeat offenders, and I think they just wonder if anybody is being successful because they see so many people coming back to the Jail. I get to see people be successful in recovery, stabilize their lives and restore relationships that were strained or severed.

I like group work because it seems to resonate more with clients than individual therapy. If I’m working with somebody individually, and I say things to them, they could walk out the door and say, “Well, that’s his opinion, and I don’t agree with that.”

But when that same person is in a group with other people who have the same kinds of problems that they do, it’s a little bit harder to discount the same advice from three or four other people in the group. I hear over and over again that people feel comfortable in the group because they’re each struggling with their own recovery, and the group develops a sense of community. *** I get together with one friend every year on a

Saturday in August for breakfast to celebrate his sobriety. I don’t know when we started this tradition, but it’s been over a decade. He always calls and says, “Where are we going to get together this year?”

We’ve moved around from IHOP to Sunshine Café to Bruner’s to Bob Evans. This past August, he got his 31-year AA sobriety token. I was his counselor 31 years ago, and we went to a restaurant this past year where a current client of mine is a waitress.

I introduced them, and he showed her the token, which impressed her. It’s just a way to celebrate his accomplishment. We send each other Christmas cards as well. *** An old expression is “You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink.” I like to think of it as you can lead a horse to water and make him thirsty. The horse would have never gone to the water source on its own will, but once it’s there, the horse realized that’s where it needs to be.

If I have a client who is coming to me by court order, I tell them: “You’re here — get something from it. You can be resentful or bitter, or you can say, “‘Well, I gotta be here, so I might as well make the best of it.’”

One of the things that’s sometimes a struggle for clients to come to terms with is that addiction is an irreversible condition. If someone is an alcoholic, then they’re never going to be a social drinker again.

They have alcoholism. Once you cross the line into alcoholism, your choices are to either continue drinking and experience all kinds of problems or to stop drinking. Drugs are the same way: A client will never go back to being a “recreational” drug user.

A big part of recovery is accepting that reality and giving up the fight of trying to control the addiction and learning to live without the alcohol or drug.

Addiction is comparable to a volcano. Say there’s a volcano in Delaware County that hasn’t erupted in 100 years … that doesn’t mean it’s turned into a mountain. It’s the same thing with addiction. If someone starts using again following a long period of abstinence, then it doesn’t take long for things to get out of control and the person starts using more than they intended.

Using more than intended is a cardinal sign of addiction.

You can compare addiction to my heart attack in 2013. I now go to Ball Hospital for cardiac rehab or walk for 45 minutes. There are days I’m not too excited about doing it, but I know I need to go because it’s in my best interest. For my clients, going to group therapy, individual counseling sessions and/or getting involved in Alcoholics Anonymous or

Photo by Stephanie Amador Narcotics Anonymous is their medicine, and they’re less likely to relapse if they’re doing those things.

With addiction, we know that there are definitely things you can do, such as working with a recovery program, that can keep addiction in remission.

A big part of recovery is not just being drug-free, but it’s about making changes in a person’s lifestyle.

It’s more than not doing drugs or not drinking, it’s about who associates with you. If you have a drug addiction and you’re still spending a lot of time with your friends who are still doing drugs, your chances are slim to none that you’re going to be successful in recovery — and a lot closer to none than slim.

Part of the process of recovery is realizing you have to set some boundaries and change your people, places and things. There needs to be a filtering process for the circumstances you put yourself in and the places you go.

People mostly use drugs as a source of comfort, pleasure or relief.

One client of mine thought he would have to give up fishing because he took a cooler of beer every time he went fishing. He started fishing when he was 8 or 10 years old and didn’t take beer then, so somewhere along the line, he associated drinking and fishing together very strongly. Now he had to accept the fact he had alcoholism and had to start disassociating fishing and drinking to recapture the joy and pleasure he used to get from fishing instead of giving it up altogether.

Personally, my faith and my family sustain me after over 30 years of being an addictions counselor.

Professionally, knowing I’m having success sustains me. I don’t worry too much about numbers, as long as I’m seeing people getting better. When their lives are getting better and they’re experiencing restored relationships, it’s very rewarding.

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Extreme Makeover: METH HOUSE EDITION

Written by Alexandra Smith Photos provided by Craig Graybeal

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t’s not uncommon to read about a house being seized because its resident is cooking methamphetamine.

Delaware County led Indiana with the most meth labs seized in 2015, according to the Indiana State Police.

But while what happens to a house after the meth lab inside is seized and removed doesn’t normally make the spotlight, it DOES have impact on the community.

Craig Graybeal knows this firsthand as the executive director of EcoREHAB of Muncie. Graybeal raises money to rehabilitate houses and to preserve and restore neighborhoods.

One of his most recent projects was the rehabilitation of a 100-year-old house on West 10th Street. The house’s previous residents had been busted for cooking meth. Graybeal bought the house for $1,000 in August 2015.

He said there had been a serious lack of maintenance on the house: the foundation was inferior, the floors were uneven, and much of the wiring and plumbing had been removed.

“It was as if somebody had taken trash bags full of fast-food wrappers, kids toys, clothing, paper trash, old mail, groceries and everything else and ripped open the bags and spread it all over the house for 30 minutes. It was just trashed,” Graybeal said.

Due to the condition of the house and the presence of meth contamination, the entire inside had to be demolished. What was left to work with was a floor, studs and a door to the outside of the house.

The Ball Brothers Foundation funded the renovation of the project, and 20 Ball State architecture students worked over three semesters to complete the renovation.

Before the students came in, however, the meth had to be remediated. This added an extra cost to the house, and it required a demolition crew.

Chris Hill, co-owner of DC Environmental Solutions, was hired to do the demolition. Hill has cleaned meth houses before, but he said the levels of contamination in this house were some of the highest he’s ever seen.

“It’s best to fully suit up in a house like that,” Hill said. “Hazmat suit, full-face respirator, gloves. It’s better to be safe than sorry because the chemicals are really potent and can irritate the eyes.”

Although they demolished the inside of the house, the crew still sprayed some chemicals afterward.

“Going by state law, the demolition work was enough to make the house habitable again, but we had to spray the windows and doors because those weren’t taken out,” Hill said.

It took the students from January to July 2016 to essentially rebuild the house. In the end, the rehabilitation cost a little more than $60,000.

Graybeal said even though the meth remediation was an added cost, rehabilitation was still the cheaper option as opposed to tearing down the house completely and building new.

“If you look at the cost to demolish a house, to get rid of everything, remediate the ground where the foundation was and create a new foundation over solid ground, get all-new materials, and build a house, it’s $110-120 per square foot on average. For a rehab, it’s $60-80 per square foot,” he said.

Houses that EcoREHAB’s dealt with in the past are covered in poison ivy; they’ve been empty for five to ten years; they have foundation problems; they used to be rentals, and they were split up all weird, and the inside was rearranged.

Another thing to think about is if the lot might be too small to rebuild on. Sometimes the lots are too small by today’s standards to build a new house on.

“Is it better to have an empty, blighted house that’s a nuisance and a hazard to the neighborhood or an empty lot?” Graybeal said. “I’d go with the empty lot because it doesn’t pose nearly as much liability as a vacant house.”

Rehabilitating the house also keeps value in the neighborhood. Even though residents most likely wouldn’t care whether the house was new or rehabilitated, Graybeal said the one thing residents don’t want is an empty house.

“I think that rehabbing an old house adds value from a cultural standpoint, certainly from an aesthetic or architectural standpoint,” Graybeal said. “Saving the houses that are in the neighborhood and preserving the architectural style of the neighborhood is important.

“If it’s a vacant house that can be rehabbed and provide a quality home for somebody in the future, I would go with that route. There’s just a lot of them, and we don’t have enough time and money for all of them.”

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Photo by Stephanie Amador

The Sight of Hope Leads to a Happy Life

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Rhea Graham’s story written by Rachel Rusnak

ooking back on my life and where I came from, no matter how bad it seemed, it has shaped me into the woman I am today. I did not come from a privileged family. We grew up in filth and poverty. I had a mom who loved me very much.

She was a single mom who took care of my brother, who was six years older, and me. With my dad not being around, my brother figured he could do whatever he wanted to do. Including being abusive to me. My mom went through a lot of depression because she didn’t know what he was doing to me when she was not around. I hesitated to tell her because I was scared that she would fall into a deeper depression and cause more problems to where I might not see her for a very long time.

The relationship I had with my brother was one that siblings should never have. He physically abused me and mentally corrupted my image of what an

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older brother should be. He made what he was doing seem like it was a game we were playing. I believed my brother would do what he said he’d do. On one occurrence, I was considered a “missing child” because I went home without telling an adult. My mother was contacted by the school, and the police were called. That day was when my mother found out that he had sexually abused me.

This was not the first time, but it was the first time anyone knew about it. I was taken immediately to the doctor, where they held me down and clarified the damage that had been done. That experience was horrific because they basically re-injured me emotionally as a child who had been through such a traumatic event. My brother was taken from our home, but when he returned, the abuse had not suppressed.

I had realized I was done being the victim. Two years later, I left my house and never looked back.

I grew up feeling like something was wrong with me. My life growing up was very chaotic, so I connotated that into what was supposed to be normal. My meter of what was bad or should be scary was completely broken. I had no gauge anymore of what I should fear or what was really bad in my life. I had a strong desire to be loved and wanted to be with somebody who loved me for me and try and fill that void where God’s supposed to go.

I wanted to fill that void with sex, drugs, rock ‘n roll and love. Not really believing that I deserved to be loved in a healthy manner.

I would drink on the weekends, smoke pot, party and sing in a band at the bars. I looked like I had my shit together and had a good life going. But really I was fucked up inside, all while not ritualistically using hard drugs.

I was an occasional user. If I or the people around me had drugs, we would use it up until we ran out. We did not go looking for the drugs. We just used if we had them in the moment. It was not until I had become interested in harder drugs that I knew I was becoming an addict. But I did not want to admit it to myself.

For 13 years with my ex-husband, I was unhappy with the life I was living. This was not the father of my children. He was a drug addict at the time we were together. I spent the last eight years of our relationship being the person who went out and looked for the medicine he needed to stay well and not in a violent state. In my mind, I did not think that I deserved anything better than that. I had not found my worth yet. I had a co-dependency of wanting to save him and make him better. I was justifying why he was the person he was. How I was going to live my life each morning, good or bad, depended on how many pills were in the bottle he had. I complained for many years to all my closest friends and family, but I did not know how to leave.

I’d done cocaine, acid and even mushrooms. I’d never really liked pain medication. I now see it as a blessing in disguise that I’m allergic to morphine, so I never wanted to do heroin.

Then meth came into the picture.

I started off smoking it. Maybe once on the weekend every week. Then it increased to a couple times during the week on top of as well as the weekend. We went through a lot of money: about $100 every day for two months. I tried to back off a little bit, but it’s hard when everyone around you wants to keep doing it. I had a mental breakdown when I could not remember what day it was or how I was functioning at work anymore.

I was mad one day because my husband, Brian,

That was all it took. At that moment, I understood why [users] were the way they were. I understood why it was easy to get hooked. and some other people were in my house shooting up, and I was judgmental. But finally, I just watched him get really high, and I was like “Fuck it, I’m doing it.” Either I was going to do it myself and hurt myself, or Brian was going to do it for me. He finally shot me up. I had such a preconceived thought of what was going to happen, but that had all went out the window the minute I felt that first rush.

That was all it took. At that moment, I understood why [users] were the way they were. I understood why it was easy to get hooked.

At that point, I lost the control I thought I had once I put a needle in my arm. I no longer had control over my moral compass, of my life, of my kids, of anything that mattered to me, including myself. As soon as I did it, I had never felt that high in my life.

Once I figured out how to shoot myself up, that was it. I was hooked not only on the drug — on the feeling — but on the needle. Just the whole process: putting it together and every step of shooting up you get addicted to. Not just getting high … that whole process becomes an addiction.

As time went by, I could see changes in myself and in Brian. The things I would never consider doing before were things I was contemplating doing now.

As soon as we moved down the street was when our lives became a nightmare.

I was hallucinating figures that were not real. I had the hindsight somewhat to say I know that this is completely out of control, and I can’t control it anymore. And I don’t want my daughters to be in the fallout of anything that might be coming. Brian and I had several conversations where I looked him in the face and begged him to send everybody away and to stop. The chaos of that, of slowly, literally losing my mind and not being able to think logical thoughts or put things together in the right order of what was real.

I hallucinated the state police coming up my stairs three separate times before it really happened.

Two weeks later, Brian and I were arrested. I did not think the police would ever take me to jail. It didn’t sink in until about day three, when I finally didn’t have any drugs in my system and my head started to clear. Every time that cell door shut, I realized I was not going anywhere. I had really screwed my life up. I stayed there for 31 days.

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I did have a moment of surrender. That particular moment was when I was talking to my oldest daughter on her 17th birthday, and it was the first time I wasn’t going to be with her on her birthday.

To have to hear my little girl’s voice, I don’t think my heart had ever been broken to that point. It broke that last thread of me holding onto thinking that I was anything but a worthless addict … because that’s what I was at that moment. I knew from when I was a little girl that knowing about God was not a religion, but a relationship with Jesus Christ and letting Him fix what is broken inside of you.

I started going to everything I could while I was in jail. I attended the Reformers Unanimous group that was available while I was in jail. After I got out, I tried going to meetings, but it wasn’t easy. I was hard because I didn’t have Brian with me. We were not home at the same time.

I was staying at his father’s house while he was still in jail. I had relapsed and violated my house arrest because I didn’t care at that point and had not been taking the meetings seriously. I was taken back to jail for three and a half months. At that point, I surrendered completely and gave up everything. After that time was over, I was living at the rental house where we had gotten arrested the night of the fire.

Working the 12 Steps Fellowship Program with a sponsor was hard and scary because I lived

most of my life telling people that I was “okay” and having them believe it. But now I have a solid rock: a foundation of happiness I stand on. And I am grateful I have turned the terrible experiences in my life around to help someone who is hurting. I am an active sponsor for people who are trying to turn their lives around. Brian and I both talk to men and women about staying clean, and that it is possible. It is even possible for a couple to do it. By helping other see there is hope, I want them to see there is a better way to live a life free of addiction.

Happiness is a choice. We choose to be happy or sad; we can make a choice to be happy and not be miserable, or we can choose to be depressed and sad for the rest of our life. I still have to choose to have a certain perspective to keep myself on track, and I have to maintain my sobriety every day. I work as hard on my recovery as I did getting high. That is how I stay clean.

The urge and desire to use is gone. I haven’t picked up since. I have a five-second rule. In five seconds if I don’t walk away, it’s going in my arm.

I’m an addict. I’m just going to be real with myself.

The most significant thing for me is that I realized I’m comfortable in my own skin. I actually know and like who I am, even with my flaws and imperfections.

I’m okay with that.

Photo by Stephanie Amador

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Photo by Stephanie Amador

From Aggravation to Being an Inspiration

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Brian Graham’s story written by Rachel Rusnak

his disease of addiction wants you to remain in a state of obsession and compulsively act by using an external source, such as drugs, to fix an internal problem. The drugs are just a side-effect of the disease, and it can manifest itself in all areas of our lives.

Today, after working steps, I realize that a lot of my use was subconsciously trying to prove that what the doctors told me about my mother was wrong. That she didn’t have a disease she would always live with and that she couldn’t just quit by choice. She too faced this battle with addiction and eventually died from the disease. Deep down I felt that if I could put all the drugs and alcohol in me and just stop then so could she.

Cocaine. She tore me up. I started out snorting it but then progressed to smoking it. I got a buzz when I snorted it, but when I smoked it, the high was on a whole new level. The anesthetic feeling was flirting with me every time, and each time, I went back for more.

My life has rapidly deteriorated after I picked up my first needle. I did not feel anything the first time I got shot up. I decided to shoot myself up the second time to see if there would be a difference. I put the needle in, pulled back the syringe, and watched my blood come out and the ribbon of drugs shoot into

my bloodstream. As soon as I pulled the trigger, instant purple vision with my eyes bouncing back and forth, vibrating my head. I had to take a step outside because my chest was pounding so hard — I just wanted to be able to breathe. I was equally scared and enticed at that very moment. I had found the threshold of how much I could use up to where I would pop. Every time after that, I was chasing to get to that first feeling again.

That initial sight was the one thing I could never overcome. I was instantly addicted to the visual sight of slamming it into my body for that instant change.

Then a decade of legal problems began.

After being in and out of jails, rehabs, treatment, and losing everything several times over, I reached a point in “drug court” where I had multiple violations and had to choose between rehab or jail. I chose rehab. I came out of treatment feeling like I really had a handle on this battle. My girlfriend, Rhea, and I had purchased two houses down on Elm Street.

The house that we lived in had a light, good-natured atmosphere. We were very happy with ourselves at that point. The house next door we rented out to tenants knowing that they were addicts as well.

We thought we could save them and make them

Photo by Stephanie Amador

better people. Yet, we hadn’t done any real work on ourselves and had just set another trap created by this insidious disease for relapse.

While living in the home, we did happen to eat out a lot. We had dinner at the bar, which led to drinking after dinner at the same bar. This was an ongoing occurrence to where problems started to snowball.

One night after a few too many drinks, Rhea was taken to the hospital. The lack of food in her system compared to the amount of alcohol in her body was overpowering for her. She stopped breathing at one point. While at the hospital, the doctors put an IV into her arm, and that flipped a switch in my mind and triggered that old familiar foe: my disease. It hit me like a ton of bricks as I watched her blood mix as it soared through the IV. All the work I had done up to that point, including the drug rehab, was gone. I was entranced and had to use again. Immediately upon returning home, I sought the active addicts next door, and my downward spiral of relapse began again. The mood in our once-light-feeling home changed almost immediately. I continued to use more and more and began to manufacture my own methamphetamine to support my habit without incurring further debt financially and to keep the feelings of paranoia, fear, guilt and shame at bay.

There was an oppressive feeling inside of our home after that point. It truly was a nightmare on Elm Street. The mixture of chemicals and being high ourselves filled the home to the point where we were seeing images and spirits that were not there. We were hearing voices and sounds coming from all over the house that were not physically there.

It felt as though a hand was on the back of my head pushing me down the entire time. That pressure was so realistic and unbearable. But that outside pressure made us come to realize that we had no other choice but to manipulate and toy with other people in order to find any relief from the attacks we felt that were so real. It was as if all the negative energy subsided when we became a servant of the very thing plaguing us. When we made others feel uncomfortable, we felt a strange feeling of comfort. It felt as though the people around us were talking about us behind our backs, and we were trying to figure out what they were saying. But in reality, nothing was being said

at all. This not only caused mental pain on us but physical pain that I would have to be reminded of every day. All this led me to a moment that would change the direction of my life, my thoughts and my perception of the world.

It started when I had a jar full of leftover meth oil from other dope I had already shaken off. This leftover, however, had a stronger amount stirring inside of it. The whole bottom was full of powder. I took it into the bathroom to pour it off, not knowing that Rhea had put a lit candle beside the door. When I set the jar down on the counter and shut the door, the wind from that force brought the flame into the chemical-infused jar. It just ignited into flames.

I was in a bathroom with a jar full of fuel — on fire. I didn’t know what to do.

The bottom of the jar busted out, and that’s when I threw it forward away from me. It landed in the toilet.

But when that oil hits water, it doesn’t go out. The fire spread. Not only was the toilet on fire but also the door, the bathtub and the shower. The fire climbed up the walls, filling the bathroom with black smoke.

Miraculously, we were able to put the now-roaring fire out with some used kitty litter and a blanket but not without experiencing several second-degree burns. The home was full of thick, black smoke that we couldn’t let out for fear that the State Police officer, who just happened to be driving by at this very moment, would see, and our chance to obtain that ever-eluding ultimate high would come to a screeching halt. We eventually were able to slowly evacuate the smoke, but the damage was very extensive. But that wasn’t enough to gain clarity and make a decision to get help. No, it propelled us yet deeper into the misery that becomes so comfortable while stuck in the vicious disease of addiction.

About a month and a half later, we had found a secret room in the house. And that is where I decided I was going to make the dope because no one knew this room even existed. In the process of smoking dope off, I used what is known as a gas generator. That is a mix of sulfuric acid and iodized salt, creating hydrochloric smoke that drops the powder meth from the meth oil. The fumes that Continued on Following Page

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come from the generator are so poisonous that anything with metal on it would immediately rust.

I was breathing those fumes into by body at least 15 hours a day in the heights of my relapse.

I was sitting in the room with my phone in one hand and a gas generator between my legs. In the span of two hours, I was waiting for Rhea to come back from making a deal with someone else. The first time I passed out for about 15 minutes, then jolted up and looked at my phone. Nothing. No missed calls or even a text message telling me where she was.

I had the jar of fuel sitting down on the floor by my legs and a tea candle away from me by a few inches.

At this point, we were so consumed by the disease that even though I had the money to pay for electricity, I was never in the condition to make the arrangements to pay because I couldn’t pull myself to use my getting-high-time to take care of my responsibilities.

I had become powerless to the drugs and my life became completely unmanageable. No heat. No water. No electricity. And all alone.

The second time, I passed out; I fell forward and knocked the jar of fuel over, hitting the carpet. I watched that fluid gel over across the carpet until it reached the candle. It knocked it out, and then suddenly, all I saw was white, white light everywhere.

My knee was soaked in the fluid from when I fell over it, and it caught the fire as well. Even what I had on under my pants was on fire. I was able to put out the fire, but the underneath was still burning along with the chemical burn. The only way out was through the hole that we had put in the wall the first time we found it.

As a crawled out, the drywall just rubbed right across the burn down my leg. I knew that something was still wrong because the pain I felt was unbearable.

As I pulled my pants off to see what the damage was, my flesh peeled off with it. The pain alone was indescribable, but having to look at my own flesh come off as I took my pants off reacted something in my mind. I looked over at the mirror in that moment of crisis and shouted “God I don’t want this anymore; I don’t want to live like this anymore.”

I thought I had put the fire out but because the house was so old, the insulation was kenneling the heat in that room. It got to the point that I could not go past the top stairs because the heat was so heavy and filled with black smoke. This was about two o’clock in the morning when this whole scene happened. The fire department came, did their job and just left. No police at all.

My phone was dead, so all I could do was crawl over to the other house with 12 inches of snow on

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I had become powerless to the drugs and my life became completely unmanageable. No heat. No water. No electricity. And all alone. the ground while I was in my boxers. I played doctor on myself to wrap up my scorched leg. I squeezed a tube of Neosporin, wrapped it with a grey sweatshirt and sealed it off with duct tape.

I had passed out from pain, exhaustion and dehydration in the house next door. When I finally woke up, it was close to morning because the sky was still dark, but the sun was starting to peak over the horizon. I had completely forgotten about asking God for a change of life, and my first thoughts were how can I use and how can I run. As I hobbled over to the window to see what was happening next door, I looked out and saw those blue and red lights flashing. The state police, the county police, the city police, the fire department, an ambulance, the news, and the people in the neighborhood, all surrounding the house. I was paralyzed with fear knowing this was too much to handle in one night and all hope of having any future at all had vanished.

I hid between the second-floor ceiling and the third-level floorboards. Rhea refused to leave me in the condition I was in regardless of the impending consequences and ignoring my pleas to save herself from me while she still could. Eventually, the others we thought we could save inadvertently saved us by informing the police where we were hiding. They came like a well-versed and trained army.

When I was finally found, still pocketing a syringe in hopes of one last high, I was taken to the hospital to be treated for my injuries. Less than 24 hours after my surgery and skin graph, they arrested me.

After a couple of days in, I had asked the guards for a book to have because I had zero-to-limited human contact. They handed me a Bible. There I was — with only God’s words and myself in that medically segregated jail cell for two weeks.

It was so painful that I cried every day for 14 days: about how bad I felt about who I was, how I had hurt Rhea, her kids, my friends, and what I had done to my family and all those I had been near through this war with my disease.

For me to become clean, I had to be forced and had to lose everything.

All the guilt and all the shame came out in that cell. It was so very painful spiritually, emotionally and physically.

But then it happened! The day had come when God helped me remember what I begged so dearly and earnestly for: a real change of life. A true transformation of what made me in mind, body and spirit.

I felt that surrender. It was like nothing I had ever felt before. Better than any high could ever compare to. I felt free for the first time in that jail cell when I realized that I was a drug addict. Jesus Christ gave me hope in a hopeless place. He gave me a way to accept blame for my actions, and He and only He could and would remove the guilt and shame. Rhea and I were in jail separate from each other. The time we spent apart tested just how we wanted to change our lives. The time tested our personal relationships with not just each other but with our friends and families too. I was incarcerated for five and a half months. I was also enrolled in a parenting program I was referred into through a connection I had with Al Adams. I completed the program before going to court and asking for pre-trial house arrest.

There was a very slim chance that it would be granted to me, but I was willing to take that chance.

I had time to look at myself without distractions from the world. There were no excuses to be made, and that is why I thought I was going to be successful. I physically lost my breath on the stand when the court granted my plea. From that day forward, I vowed to give the world the best Brian I could give. And that’s just what I’ve been doing now for over three years.

It has taken lots of work. Lots of blood, sweat and tears. But there has been so much more blessing than I could ever repay. But that wasn’t going to stop me from trying.

I began attending many different meetings for those seeking recovery. Then I started working steps and they began to change me in spite of me. That’s exactly what I needed! Christ began opening doors once thought to be permanently closed and restored relationships once thought lost forever. Then he did the most amazing thing. He brought Rhea and I back together and created in us a force to be reckoned with in the battle with the disease of addiction. Once the darkness that plagued the community became the beacon of hope for that same community. Then I took her hand in marriage, and God really began to use us.

Today Rhea and I help other people who are going through the process of recovery and want to better their lives like we have been doing for many years.

Once a day or more, seven days a week, for three years we have been going to these meetings. We became involved with Reformers Unanimous, which is a faith-based recovery program. Through New Beginnings, we work with people who are convicted felons and recovering addicts who have gone through therapeutic programs in prison and help them transition out and become productive citizens of the community through outreach to others in need. We facilitate that meeting, and it’s a true blessing and honor to be able to do so. Ninety-nine percent of those people are addicts or can relate their criminal behavior to drugs or alcohol. We also volunteer with hospitals and other institutions for service work. We have the opportunity to make such a large impact on the lives of others struggling not only with addiction but the multitude and other struggles we all face because of them knowing us personally and seeing where Christ has brought us today! He’s changed us so deeply from once being a mere aggravation to today being an inspiration. For which we will be forever in His debt and grateful beyond the description of words.

I know where these events that have happened in my life have brought me. I have a loving relationship with Christ, a loving family and so many more blessings in my life. The people I have surrounded myself with are positive people who want to give me unconditional love and want me to be a better version of myself. I am not perfect, but there is a big difference from where I am at in my life now and where I was. I am grateful for my personal change and the way it affects other people.

Three years have passed, and I celebrate every day that I am clean.

Photo by Stephanie Amador

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Photo by Stephanie Amador

If I hadn’t turned around and walked right back into that recovery room, death would have been the next step for me.

The Definition of Insanity Tom Sloan’s story written by Elizabeth Barton

I

had my hand on the doorknob, about to go in, but suddenly I was overcome with shame. Here I was once again: about to take a new beginner’s token and start working the program anew at 53 years old. The shame was overwhelming, crippling. I couldn’t breathe. It told me to turn back. It made me believe I could never get a handle on my life and my recovery. So I started back down the sidewalk.

Then, suddenly, the lightbulb above my head went on, and I had this moment of clarity. Where do you think you are going? You have nowhere to go and no one to turn to. If you leave here, you are going to die, I told myself. And I knew it was true. I would’ve died. I had pushed this envelope too far, farther than anyone I ever met. Almost everyone I had originally come into recovery with had died. If I hadn’t turned around and walked right back into that recovery room, death would have been the next step for me.

Shame is a difficult sentiment to subdue. It’s different than guilt in the way that it makes you believe you are the bad thing. Guilt is recognizing the things that you have done to be bad, but shame convinces you are a bad person because of the things you have done, the things that the disease has made you do. Addiction is a disease, and when the symptoms of the disease rear their ugly heads, you feel shame and guilt. And you’d do almost anything to stop feeling those emotions,

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including putting the drug back in your system. There is no denying that the lying, stealing and cheating that accompany addiction are symptoms of the disease.

They are ugly and vile symptoms, but they do not define us as addicts. They do not define me. They are part of the disease.

My first admission to myself that I had problems with addiction was when I was 32. I was an alcoholic.

I told myself I could just quit drinking, and for three years, I was successful at it. My life got exceedingly better just by removing alcohol from my life. I stopped getting into fights and car wrecks. Things were looking up.

But it couldn’t last. While I had been abstaining from alcohol, my drug use, specifically opioids, had escalated, and after three years, I found myself back in jail for my seventh DUI. I was at a loss for words. The symptoms of addiction, the pain and the shame, crept back in. I was so disappointed in my actions that, when they let me out at four o’clock in the morning, I walked straight home, pulled the gun from where I kept it underneath my mattress and shot myself.

Waking up in the psych unit at the hospital with a gunshot wound is pretty sobering, and it forced me to really open my eyes to the idea that I had once again been struggling with addiction. At the time, I couldn’t

call myself an addict, but I knew that I had a problem and knew that I couldn’t continue living this way.

I spent 28 days in an inpatient treatment program before leaving, resigned to never using drugs again.

This is when I started going to the 12-step program meetings, hearing the same messages every time: Get a sponsor. Read the literature. Find a higher power. Work the steps. Going to meetings became my sole focus — to the point where it became fun for me. I would get the chance to socialize with people who knew me and who understood what struggling with an addiction is like. I would listen to people share their stories and the bits of wisdom they picked up through their recovery. I had this idea that as long as I came to meetings I could stay clean.

Unfortunately, after 18 months, I was back to my old habits. For the next 17 years following that, I started this cycle, where I would get clean for a while and adhere to the steps of the program only to turn right back around and halt all of the progress I had made. Later, I would come back to meetings, grab a new beginner’s token, and tell myself: This time it is going to work. This time I am going to stay clean.

Throughout this endless cycle, I was in the realestate business with a woman who became my wife.

She had never experienced any form of addiction before meeting me. When we fell in love, I truly thought that she was going to be my salvation from this disease. I think she viewed herself in that role as well. She went to meetings with me and was greatly involved in my recovery. We got married and became very successful in our careers. The money was rolling in. We were both driving new cars and had the big house on the hill. Life couldn’t have been going better, except I was still going through this cycle of relapse and then a period of recovery and then relapse again.

I had become very skilled at telling her the same old lies I’d been telling myself for years: This time I’m going to stay clean. This persisted for seven years, but eventually she had enough. She worried that staying with me meant losing her children, and that wasn’t a chance she was willing to take.

I knew that the program was successful without a doubt. I just couldn’t get it to work for me. But, if anything, this program has taught me to just keep coming back. Keep going to meetings. Keep working the steps. And then I had my moment of clarity. At 53 years old, I walked back into the recovery room; I grabbed my beginner’s token, and I faced the shame that had weighed me down for so long. I remember sharing that night and telling everyone, “I’m going to do exactly what you suggest. Read the literature. Get a sponsor. Find a higher power. Come to meetings every day. And when I relapse it’s not going to be my fault

this time.” That was the attitude I went into it with.

I got a sponsor. I called him every day, and he became involved in all of my decision-making. Being vulnerable in front of another person in that way is very daunting. I went to my meetings every day. I did everything I said I would. Eventually, I felt something change within me. I started to recognize these feelings I had for others in a capacity I hadn’t felt before. I was developing empathy for these people who were going through all these similar things I had been through my entire life.

Before, I was so focused on becoming successful in my outward life, whether that meant making tons of money, driving new cars, or having a big house, that I never bothered to look inward at myself. I never came to terms with what was really spurring this self-destruction. Addiction is a coping mechanism to bury the emotions we don’t want to feel. For years, that was my way of distancing myself from these emotions. So in losing that mechanism, I had to learn how to deal with the shame, guilt and self-hatred I had kept buried for so long. This empathy that I recognized within myself drove me to work harder, and as a result, I continued to make progress and recover. I was finally focused on recovery and not on the outward desires I had yearned for in the past.

This new outlook was due to the 12th step in the program: to have a spiritual awakening. My newly found empathy for others was my spiritual awakening after getting this far through the program.

Additionally, the 12th step has us work with other addicts and guide them through the steps. I started doing service work and sharing my story with others.

I wanted to give people hope and open their eyes to life after recovery. To show other addicts they don’t have to keep living with this disease. My life now is beyond anything I could’ve imagined when I was living in active addiction. My ex-wife and I remarried and live our lives both focused on addiction recovery.

She works with the significant others of addicts, starting her own 12-step program for those who have been affected by codependence and their partner’s addiction. It can be difficult working with addicts, especially getting them to see past their denial and open up to another person. It can be equally difficult with their codependents.

As of November 2016, I have been clean for 11 years. It took me 32 years to get that. It’s just amazing how much better life becomes. I feel very fortunate to have gotten to this point in my recovery, especially being my age. It’s not often addicts get to grow old. This disease has killed so many, and it will kill more until we, as a society, do something about it.

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Photo by Stephanie Amador

Vivitrol Offers New Method to Treat Addiction Written by Michelle Kaufman

M

eridian Health Services is the only healthcare facility in Muncie that administers the Vivitrol injection as a way to help clients recover from

addiction.

Adrienne Collins, practice manager at Meridian Health Services, said Vivitrol is relatively new, and one injection will last in a patient’s body for 28 days. The syrup-type injection is given at Meridian in the glute and is also used for newly released inmates. Vivitrol is effective for opioid, pain pill and alcohol addictions.

Photo by Stephanie Amador

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Vivitrol began being used after a heroin addict came to Meridian and said she needed help.

Collins and her co-worker, Brandy LoPilato, family nurse practitioner, were unsure what they could do for her at the time, but both had heard about Vivitrol. LoPilato suggested Vivitrol and ordered it for the client, and soon, more and more clients with a heroin problem began coming in.

“It’s kind of blown up into this very, very large thing that we have going on where most of our patients that Brandy sees a day are Vivitrol injections,” Collins said. “It’s almost 200 [total patients on Vivitrol] now.”

Vivitrol binds to the same receptors in a person’s brain that opioids also bind to, similar to a lock and key. If Vivitrol is binded to the receptors and blocks the opioid, the craving for an opioid will not occur in the person.

“That’s where the dangerous part comes in with the overdosing because people [on Vivitrol] will think that they can use an opioid substance and they’ll still be able to get high, which they will not,” Collins said. “Because those receptors are blocked, the only thing that they’re really

Photo by Stephanie Amador

going to do is overdose and possibly die.”

Typically, a patient will keep getting Vivitrol injections every 28 days from eight months to a year, depending on the person’s treatment plan.

Patients are also required to be in intensive outpatient treatment or therapy because Vivitrol itself is not enough to help. “[A patient can say] I’m clean, but I’m still living with and associating with all of these people who are still using, so once I’m off the drug, I’m going to more than likely go back to using because I haven’t changed my lifestyle at all,” Collins said. “It’s a whole lifestyle change.”

Collins said Meridian sees a lot of success with Vivitrol, and the drug gives patients courage that they need to get things going and gives them a boost because they no longer have to worry about cravings.

“A lot of patients have a lot of anxiety regarding getting clean because they worry about that constant craving and all of the other things that they’re going to do. It’s like an entire lifestyle change. It’s like if I told you today that you’re no longer allowed to

If Vivitrol is binded to the receptors and blocks the opioid, the craving for an opioid will not occur in the person. drink any pop ever again. It’s really hard for people,” Collins said. “It’s really hard for people to stop drinking a Coke a day — think about how much harder that is for heroin usage.”

Vivitrol costs approximately $1,350 per injection, but it is covered by insurance. Meridian has to do a prior authorization with the insurance company to show Vivitrol is medically necessary to have it covered and obtained for the patient.

If someone would like to receive treatment, then they need to set up to become a new patient at Meridian by filling out a packet. When they come in, they will have a drug screen performed on them, and if they are able, they will receive the injection.

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Finding Hope

I

started using a substance ever since I was 12 years old. I started drinking alcohol at this age, and that’s kind of where it all started.

I remember being drunk for the first time. My friend’s mom gave us alcohol to drink before a May Day Parade concert, and I liked it — it made me feel more confident, and it felt fun. I had no worries in the world. We would drink on the weekends, but soon after that, we began taking her mom’s liquor.

It was easily accessible because my dad drank, so my friends and I would get drunk and just do stupid things like inviting boys over or riding around in cars while we were drunk. I remember a time when one of my friend’s brothers was driving and we accidently hit a parked car. The people told us to give them 50 bucks or they were going to call the cops on us. We didn’t have the money on us, so they wanted one of us to stay while the rest went to get the money, so we made our friend’s brother stay because we didn’t like him very much. We brought back the $50, and I’m pretty sure they just wanted it to buy beer.

As I got into high school, I began experimenting with things besides alcohol: The first was marijuana.

I smoked weed before school, after school, and I would even cut class to go smoke in the parking lot. My sophomore year, I started taking painkillers: Vicodin were easy for me to get because my step dad was prescribed them at the time. I began taking these whenever I could get my hands on them. If I couldn’t get those, I would get Percocet or Oxycontin from a friend or someone who dealt them. I smoked and took pills to block out all of the things going on in my life … I remember I would get so high that I would just relax and not have a worry in the world. I liked downers for this reason.

After high school, I turned to methadone. I liked these because I would only have to take a quarter of the pill, and I would be high all day. After a while, they started getting expensive: It would cost $30$40 per pill, so a friend of mine told me about the methadone clinic. Many people think the methadone clinic is a place you can go to stop your addiction to opiates, but for me, it was just the opposite. I would go there once a week, meet with my counselor —who supposedly wanted me to stop using, but instead, she didn’t care. I’m sure some people have success with the program, but I felt like they were more interested in getting my money than

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Kelsea Boone’s story by Colton LeTourneau

getting me off methadone. They would give me my medicine, and I would come back every week for years to get my next week’s dose.

At around the same time, I began smoking spice, and it was legal at the time they were selling it at the gas station. I kind of knew it was bad, but I didn’t know it was that bad … at least I didn’t think it was that bad. So I started smoking a whole lot of it: a ridiculous amount. I was mentally addicted to it because I would start being the biggest bitch if I didn’t have it; I would throw a fit if I didn’t have it.

Being on spice is nothing like a weed high, though: Your heart is beating fast, but you’re kind of chill, and it makes your head foggy. I remember there were times I got too high off of it, and you almost start freaking out.

I smoked it and drove for the first time, and I remember thinking how crazy it was to be driving this big hunk of metal down the road at 60 mph. It would just make me think of random, weird stuff and put a realization in my mind of what I was doing. At the time, I didn’t think it was a big deal — it was legal: Hell, I bought it at the gas station … how bad can it be? I would smoke weed and drive, and I didn’t think that was a big deal, so I thought smoking spice and driving wasn’t a big deal either.

Two weeks after they banned spice, I got pulled over. I had a pipe in my car and a little bit of spice on me, and they took me to jail over it. During this time, I was still taking methadone. I was 23.

I wanted to stop, and this was the first time I checked into Harbor Lights Rehabilitation Center. I was 24.

When I checked in, I was nervous, and mostly everyone there was trying to come off of heroin, and I had never done it at the time. This gave me a realization of how big the heroin problem was then let alone now. I was there for 10 days.

After leaving Harbor Lights, I started withdrawing from the methadone, so I started drinking. I became addicted to alcohol for nine months.

My dad was a pretty heavy drinker at the time, but I would drink him under the table. As soon as I woke up, I would start drinking, and by noon, I would be passing out and then waking up at 2 or 3 p.m. to do it all over again.

It became so bad that I was starting to drink a halfgallon of vodka a day.

When you’re this drunk daily, you can’t do anything;

you can’t go anywhere because you’re fucked up all the time. I couldn’t function. I could barely do anything, and I rarely left the house. The only time I ever did was to go get cigarettes or go get liquor.

I was so fucked up that I couldn’t talk to anybody or even walk down the street because I would have been picked up for public intoxication.

I was all over the place.

Most of the time I would be alone, getting drunk by myself, and life was pretty lame. I didn’t see much or do much. Toward winter, I remember waking up and going to the liquor store at 8 a.m. because that’s when I thought it opened, but it didn’t open until 9 a.m., so here I am walking around Noblesville with a hangover, feeling like crap because I was waiting until 9:00 to get my vodka.

My parents told me that I needed help, but with them pushing me and with me trying to block out all of the things going on in my life, it only pushed me to drink more. I eventually checked back into Harbor Lights Rehabilitation Center. I stayed there for four months: It was nice. I had a job, and there were rules to follow, so it was structured in a way that kept me from doing anything.

One night, a girl in our house said she had some heroin to pick up, so we went downtown to get it in some ghetto neighborhood in Indianapolis. A circle of bushes surrounded us, and the girl got it out. She shot it up first — this was the first time I had seen someone else do it. Instantly after she shot up, she “fell out” or went in and out of consciousness. I didn’t really know what was going on. She lay there and didn’t move at all. Her lips started turning purple … I thought she was dead.

I used to be a lifeguard, so I started giving her CPR, but it didn’t work. Eventually she came to … and then she shot me up. Even after seeing all this happen, I still had the nerve to try it. The needle hit my vein, and it was a sensational feeling: My body started getting tingly, and I had a taste in the back of my mouth I’ve never felt before. Any worries or cares I had I didn’t think about when I was on heroin.

When I went back to Harbor Lights, I was still very high. Curfew was 4 p.m., and I got back at 7 p.m.

They asked to drug test me, but I said it was no use: I knew I was going to fail, so they kicked me out.

I slept in the parking lot that night. This is when I became addicted to heroin.

One good time of feeling that high was all it took.

For six months, I was addicted. I began stealing from my parents, from stores, anywhere I could get the money to buy some heroin from the dope man.

During holiday seasons, I would go steal fancy clothes or anything he wanted in exchange for heroin.

I can remember sitting in the car for two hours, sometimes 5-6 hours in a car in the same parking lot waiting for him because I didn’t want to get it from anyone else. He had the best stuff.

At this point, it wasn’t really that I needed the heroin to fuel my addiction. I just didn’t want to feel sick.

The sickness that comes with coming down off of heroin is excruciating. I remember trying to quit without going to the clinic: I was at my dad’s house, lying in bed for several days. I couldn’t sleep. I would flail my arms and legs, rolling around in bed.

It felt like I had bugs crawling all over my skin. I would have hot-and-cold flashes, so I would take up to seven showers a day just lying there with the water on me because it made me feel a little bit better for some reason.

It takes up to eight days for heroin to finally start leaving your system. I lasted seven at my dad’s house until I just couldn’t take it anymore. The sickness overtook my body, and all I wanted was to feel better, so I began using again.

Soon after I began using, I found out that I was pregnant. This changed my life, but I didn’t know what to do. They say you have to hit rock bottom before things start getting better, and I truly believe God gave me a second chance by becoming pregnant with my daughter, Hope.

I went to three different hospitals in the Noblesville area, and all three turned me away. I didn’t know why they wouldn’t take me in — maybe because I was a heroin addict carrying a child or maybe because I was a heroin addict who had little to no insurance.

I finally found Dr. Reeves through Meridian Health Center in Muncie, and if it wasn’t for her and God, I truly believe I wouldn’t be here today. I talked with Dr. Reeves, and she told me to continue using, and I thought that was crazy, but in my situation, I could not stop using or else it would have hurt the baby.

A couple weeks after finding Dr. Reeves, they finally got me into the hospital. I was withdrawing from heroin, so they put me on Suboxone so Hope would be okay. Throughout the process, I went through their program that consisted of weekly counseling sessions: intensive outpatient three hours a day, for three days a week, lasting eight weeks.

After Hope was born, my dad was in there, seeing her for the first time.

I want my story to help people find their way out of addiction. I want to give people hope, even if they have been using something for years. You CAN find a way out. I was hopeful to find a way out, and that’s why I named my baby Hope — because she gave me hope when I hadn’t had any in a long time.

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My Void

T

he alarm clock blared from the side of my bed. I rubbed my eyes, trying to wipe away the blurry 5:30 that stood on the face of the clock. Gently, trying not to wake up the boys, I tapped snooze.

Nope. Not today. Today’s not going to happen.

We usually don’t sleep like this — all bundled tight under warm blankets — but Bryson had been having night terrors, so he and Brennon slept with me. It was my favorite part of the day; there in bed, with the two people I love most right next to me, nothing else mattered.

I dug in deeper and let the ocean of blankets cover us all as I held my two boys tighter. Thirty minutes would have to be enough.

The clock stared at me, telling me it was 6:00. I should have known that this day would turn out badly, just like every other day when I choose not to stay with my routine. I’m full of good decisions now more than ever in my life, but I swear, it seems like for every one good decision I make, I make two bad choices.

I texted my boss and said I wasn’t coming in. I felt bad … but not bad enough to check my phone to see if he read it. This was the bad decision I made that morning.

But just two years ago, my bad decisions were different. Much different.

There is a void in me. It consumes me. It claims everything I have. Everyone must fill this void with whatever they can: with love, with family, with God. For six years of my life, I filled the void with heroin and painkillers.

At 6:15, I told my kids that we were playing hooky that day. They jumped up and down and yelled with joy. They didn’t want to go to school as much as I didn’t want to go to work. Then, I remembered my old decisions that I would make. I remembered the void I fed with addiction a few years ago.

I still remember the day, years ago, when I was in a relationship with the boys’ dad, when we were driving home from their grandparents’ house. The kids were in the back seat of the car.

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Ashlee Dotterer‘s story written by Sara Barker and Garrett Looker

We pulled over to the side of the driveway, and he shifted into park. We had some money then, and we had bought heroin.

Separating the back seat from the front seats with a thin sheet, we shot up in the car next to the boys. The sheet, I thought, would keep me from swallowing them into my void.

Now, I looked over at my downturned phone, which read 6:30. I need this job. They’ve already dismissed me twice. It’s been two years now since I drove under the influence, was arrested and relinquished control of my kids to Child Protective Services. Two years since I relapsed.

They knew how far I’d come and how I was finally putting my life back together.

Even though I’m 26, I’m not much of an adult yet; however, I made a very adult choice. 7:00.

Get ready for school, I said. We’re going in late.

The uphill, everyday battle called addiction is still with me. It grabs me and pulls me down. It pulls me away from what I love.

I feel it most when I look at my kids. How could I have done the things that I did?

There in my living room, in a house that I haven’t called home for longer than six months, is a dry-erase board that hangs on a wall by the kitchen. The board keeps track of the boys’ behavior, with a meter on either side that fills up more for each instance of good choices. At the bottom is a list of mom’s responsibilities: mow the lawn, clean the kitchen, laundry. In this way, I measure my boys’ success coinciding with my own and how our progress as a family is a team effort, driven by myself.

I love my boys with everything I have and more. They’re growing up now, and finally I’m in the picture. But with every day, with every good adult decision, I’m growing up too. I’m figuring it out as I go.

I think about my life, of where I came from, where I’m going, and what made me who I am.

For a while, my past, present and future was addiction.

On my way out the door, I see my great-grandfather’s mug on the counter. It fills me up with memories and feelings from the past, a time when things were different. I read my own childhood handwriting — Grandpa — scrawled out on the face of the mug.

I remember his other half, my great-grandma, about how perfect of a couple they were. I revel in stories about how they met while he was overseas serving in the military. I remember how she would wake up early, sit on the porch and read scripture as the morning sun greeted the horizon.

I keep all of the things from them that I can hold and touch that was a part of their lives.

Even now, part of my morning routine is a modified version of what my great-grandmother did.

I’ll read a book, usually a devotional, on the front porch and smoke a cigarette.

My past reminds me that I have a history greater than my void. I want to be how they were. I want to find that simplicity and honest goodness in my life. I don’t want to entertain the void.

For years, my life didn’t have the type of balance that my great-grandparents had. I came from a broken home: a father in jail and a mother who was lost in herself. For years, I filled my life, my void, with instant gratification that took away the pain but poisoned me and ate away at my future.

Once I tried to quit, guilt and shame toppled into the void. I look to my children and feel the Photos by Garrett Looker

I feel it most when I look at my kids. How could I have done the things that I did? responsibility for them and for myself, weighing on my heart.

I love these boys. They are my world. They are my life. I failed before, but I will not fail again.

They fill my void today.

Every day I wake up, usually around 5:30, but some days it just doesn’t happen. Regardless, I always do one thing. I pray. I speak to my God, my faith in the world. I speak about my life, my children and my love. I look to Him now — not to drugs.

Every day, multiple times a day, I affirm to myself and to God that I’m doing well and that I have His support.

I have an overabundance of perseverance and self-control. He who lives in me is greater than he who lives in the world. Blessed is she who believes in the fulfillment of the promises the Lord has spoken to her heart. And I am beautifully and wonderfully made.

My name is Ashlee Dotterer. I am 26, and I am the mother of two wonderful children. My journey has been long, but it is not over. Today I choose to fill the void with my own life, with love and with my God.

The Fifth Vital Sign

S

Written by Colton LeTourneau

ince 1991, the U.S has seen a tremendous increase in opioid prescriptions, leading to an increase in deaths and overdoses bound to painkillers.

According to drugabuse.com: “The interaction between painkillers and specific opioid receptors results in activation of our ‘reward centers’ — a phenomenon that is brought on by the resultant surge of the neurotransmitter dopamine, which creates a feeling of euphoria and well-being.

These effects, which are similar to those of heroin (another opioid), reinforce patterns of abuse and can quickly lead to addiction, as many users will continue to increase their doses to achieve these effects as their tolerance develops.”

Developing a tolerance can be dangerous and sometimes even deadly.

Some common opioids derived from painkillers are methadone, hydrocodone, codeine and meperidine. According to the National Institute of Drug Abuse, the numbers of prescriptions for opioids (like hydrocodone and oxycodone products) have escalated from around 76 million in 1991 to nearly 207 million in 2013. The United States is their biggest consumer globally.

1

Body Temperature

3

Respiratory Rate

Considering pain as the ‘fifth vital sign’ has put many people at risk of becoming addicted to these opioid painkillers because it’s impossible to accurately test a patient’s pain.

Opioids account for the largest prescription-drugabuse problems and are the most common drugs used in overdoses. According to the Center for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), 91 Americans die each day from overdose of prescription painkillers (opioids) and heroin.

The assessment of pain by the Joint Commission, an independent, nonprofit organization that certifies and accredits nearly 21,000 health organizations and programs in the U.S., has been a controversial topic for many years now. As the opioid crisis continues to affect almost every state in the U.S., advocates such as the American Medical Association are urging the Joint Commission and Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services (CMS) to scrap policies that they say can lead to opioid over-prescribing.

2

4

Blood Pressure

Pulse Rate

5

Pain

Photos from Pixabay & Wikimedia Commons

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Advocates are asking the Joint Commission to re-examine its Pain Management Standards, which previously identified pain as “the fifth vital sign.”

In 2001, the Pain Management Standards required healthcare providers to ask what degree of pain the patient felt with the notion that, at the time, pain was undertreated.

According to an article called “Opioid Crisis: Scrap Pain as 5th Vital Sign?” in Medpage Today, “In a letter to Mark Chassin, MD, MPH, president and CEO of the Joint Commission, advocates ask the organization to re-examine those standards, which lead to overtreatment and overuse of opioids.”

The letter said that pain is merely a symptom. It is not a vital sign. Blood pressure, heart rate, respiratory rate and temperature — the four original vital signs — can be objectively measured, meaning each is the repetition of a unit that maintains its amount within an allowable range of error. Medical test results for each person will be different, but each of the four vital signs can be tested within a certain range to determine the patient’s condition.

Pain, on the other hand, cannot be measured objectively (or medically).

For many years, Dr. Thomas D. Gustavino, an orthopedic surgeon, would get calls from nurses telling him that his patient was in severe pain, and the pain had not been successfully controlled by the pain medication already ordered. He and other doctors would go through a series of checks: seeing what kind of pain medication had been given to the patient, determining if they had any allergies, identifying patient symptoms such as numbness and tingling, and even asking if they a had on a tight bandage.

Going through this series of checks, Gustavino said, “can make for an identifiable and correctable reason for the patient’s pain.” For example, it could just be a slight loosening of the bandage to release a little pressure and relieve the patient’s pain.

But ever since the inclusion of the “fifth vital sign,” Gustavino said hospitals are to be “more aggressive” when treating pain and are to follow new guidelines, which include utility of pain “scales,” which are shown at right, according to the Universal Pain Screening as required by the Joint Commission.

Considering pain as the “fifth vital sign” has put many people at risk of becoming addicted to these opioid painkillers because it’s impossible to accurately test a patient’s pain. So doctors and nurses are required to give their patients something to stop the pain … but they cannot medically assess their patients’ degree of pain. In other words, the “fifth vital” is largely based on self-diagnosis.

0 1

Pain Free

Very Mild

you hardly notice the pain at all

2

Discomforting

3

Tolerable

4

Distressing

5

Very Distressing

6

Intense

7

Very Intense

8

Horrible

9

Excruciating

10

Unimaginable

minor pain

very noticeable pain – like an accidental cut

strong, deep pain – like an average toothache

strong, deep, piercing pain – like a sprained ankle when you stand on it wrong strong, deep, piercing pain — so strong it seems to partially dominate your senses

same as 6 except the pain completely dominates your senses

pain so intense you can no longer think clearly

pain so intense you can no longer tolerate it and you demand painkillers or surgery right away

pain so intense you will go unconscious shortly

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Photo of Louis E. Ingelhart

About

Louis E. Ingelhart helped establish the Department of Journalism, serving as a chair for 25 years from 1954-1979. He was an ardent proponent of press freedom, and he pioneered the first Journalism Workshops at Ball State University, a unique student experience that continues today under the leadership of Professor Brian Hayes. The Scholars program exists in honor and memory of Ingelhart’s legacy.

In 2012, Dr. Adam J. Kuban became the director of the program, creating a curricular “facelift” that blended concepts and applications associated with leadership into the new pedagogical design.

Selected students complete a two-semester, two-credit program that introduces concepts and

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research from Gallup Clifton StrengthsFinder - but also challenges them to think about what and who informs their personal beliefs about leadership and why that matters. Class discussion combined with field trips and guest speakers informs and enhances students’ working meaning of leadership, and they apply these concepts toward a collective project.

Thirteen students involved in this project are Loius E. Ingelhart Scholars, an elite group of sophomores and juniors who demonstrated journalistic passion and leadership potential. Facing Addiction in East Central Indiana represents our desired action through community engagement.

Ingelhart Scholars

Dr. Adam J. Kuban: Director, promotion, writer, video

Kelsey Jones: Graduate Assistant, promotion

Stephanie Amador: Photography track leader, photographer

Elizabeth Barton: Design track leader, book designer, writer

Caleb Conley: Promotion track leader, promotion

Ryan Flanery: Video track leader, video, writer

Valerie Jones: Video track leader, video

Michelle Kaufman: Writer

Colton LeTourneau: Writer, video

Garrett Looker: Writing track leader, writer, promotion

Samantha Mattlin: Writing track leader, writer, video

Rachel Rusnak: Writer, promotion

Lindsey Sharp: Promotions track leader, promotion

Alexandra Smith: Writer, book designer

Jillian Wilschke: Promotion track leader, promotion

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Thank You to Our Donors

College of Communication, Information & Media OďŹƒce of Entrepreneurial Learning

Thank You to City of Anderson Board of Public Works

for providing us with venues to host our public events!

Acknowledgments Our Writers Sara Barker Elizabeth Barton Chris Bavender Ryan Flanery Michelle Kaufman Colton LeTourneau Garrett Looker Samantha Mattlin Rachel Rusnak Alexandra Smith Our Photographers Stephanie Amador Garrett Looker Kaylie McKee Our Video Producers Ryan Flanery Valerie Jones Adam Kuban Colton LeTourneau Samantha Mattlin

Our Promotion Strategists Stephanie Amador Caleb Conley Ryan Flanery Kelsey Jones Adam Kuban Garrett Looker Rachel Rusnak Lindsey Sharp Jillian Wilschke Our Social Media Coordinator Kelsey Jones Our Book Designers Elizabeth Barton Kaylie McKee Alexandra Smith Our Book Editors Adam Kuban Kaylie McKee

And to all of the storytellers who shared their stories, we are forever indebted to you for teaching us many lessons and making our communities better places to live.

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Ending the Facing Addiction in East Central Indiana is not a one-time conversation or action. It requires a commitment to deeply understanding this disease, respecting those suffering from it and those continuing to collaborate in ways to find and implement solutions that will help our communities. The Facing Project and its partners would like to thank the many healthcare professionals, substance-abuse treatment providers, law-enforcement personnel, public servants and nonprofit agencies, and all others who are part of this ongoing effort. While every initiative could not be included here, we hope the spirit and passion of their work has been, as we cannot hope to make meaningful progress without them.

Please refer to the event program, as you may find specific individual and/or organizational efforts to address addiction in our communities.

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WHAT IS ADDICTION?

For the past seven months, in Fall 2016 and into Spring 2017, the Louis E. Ingelhart Scholars Program searched for the answers to this complex, ever-changing question. In short, it can be concluded that there is not simply one universal answer. There is our societal construct, a generally negative implication that we tend to give to those who struggle with addiction. But it is this struggle — this constant fight for a better world and a better life — that makes these individuals human. There may not be one answer to what addiction is, but we think it is a collection of voices: whispering, speaking and shouting to a world that has the power to listen. These voices are telling their stories not only of addiction but also what it means to be human. The individuals represented in this book spoke of their stories. They spoke of the void that they must fill in their lives, the constant guilt and shame that accompanies their addiction, the setbacks in life. But these individuals also spoke of love and care and sometimes the absence of it.

They spoke of pain, of hurt, of depression and of their worst day. But they told their story; they delivered their story to the world. And with that comes hope. Regardless of what ideas, images and connotations society has created of addiction, it is a question of humanity and whether or not we can look past our differences. On behalf of the Ingelhart Scholars Program, we encourage anyone who wishes to end the stigma of addiction to step forward. By understanding that people afflicted with addiction are brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, neighbors and friends — people just like everyone else, we can change the often-negative image that society has created of addiction. The change begins and ends with everyday people who choose to make a difference.

Stigma

THE CHANGE BEGINS WITH YOU 46

© The Facing Project™ 2017: Muncie, IN 47305 47