Through My Eyes essay contest: Honorable mentions
Monday, November 10, 2008 6:44 PM PST
By The Daily News
Printable version
E-mail this articleSeveral young adults earned honorable mention in The Daily News essay contest, Through My Eyes. Each shares a personal, distinctive view of how the misuse of drugs or alcohol can changes people’s lives.
The idea for this contest came from Brian McCrady of the Cowlitz Substance Abuse Coalition, which provided the prizes, gift certificates to Fred Meyer for $100, $75 or $50. Additional support came from Washington State Community Mobilization and the Office of National Drug Control Policy.
McCrady and two other members of the Coalition, Shellee Brassard, Intervention Specialist at Kelso High School, and Joe Crepell of KLTV, helped to read and evaluate 38 essays.
We thank the young people who took the time to share honest, sometimes painful, always gripping accounts of experiences with alcohol, marijuana, cocaine, heroin and meth, as well as unlawful use of prescription drugs. Several of the essays discuss the impact of living with a family member who is an addict.
Additional essays will be posted later this week at tdn.com.
“Through My Eyes” is the trademark of a similar project done in Brookings, Ore., sponsored by TheCitizensWhoCare.org
Helpful resources
If you want to talk to someone about addiction, here are some ways to get started:
• Washington State alcohol and drug helpline 1(800) 562-1240; teen line is 1(877) 345-8336.
• Call Cowlitz County Human Services at 501-1215 for local counseling and treatment referral, call the Drug Abuse Prevention Center at 274-3262, or visit http://dasis3.samhsa.gov for treatment options.
• Contact the Cowlitz Substance Abuse Coalition at (360) 577-3041 for general information.
• For legal aid, contact Lower Columbia Community Action Program at (360) 425-3430, ext 206.
Click here to view the winning essays
HONORABLE MENTION
‘This is Her Story,” by a Columbia County resident, 17 years old
“Give me that shirt!”
“No, it’s mine!” the little girl screamed at her brother. The original, red, Power Ranger shirt stretching between their hands.
“Gimme it!” The boy ripped it away from her and fell back into a pile of cans. The little girl began crying as she lay on the tattered couch by herself.
Her brother walked into the room where his friends were, the room where she wasn’t allowed.
She knew, even at this young of an age, what they were doing in there. They were smoking weed. She sat crying on the couch in the run-down house, the house where her mother was hardly ever present. Her father was in jail so he was gone, too.
She was afraid of life at this age, and no one was around to support her except her brothers, one of whom was often high. She had three brothers, and two of them tried to avoid the drugs. She felt she could trust them more than anyone else. She needed them.
She never saw the Power Ranger shirt again.
Every day was a struggle for her, avoiding the drugs and the anger of her brothers. She understood it though, for she was her mother’s baby. The irresponsible, reckless mother who had taken crack while she was pregnant, with the little girl and all her brothers before her.
Her mother didn’t care about anyone but herself. Most of her sons were equally irresponsible and would force their little sister to help in their shenanigans, from making bongs for their pals to shoving wine bottles up the sleeves of her dingy jacket in the Saleway.
Their mother rarely brought food home. The kids survived on Top Ramen and Flintstone vitamins for weeks at a time, and at times were forced to go days without anything to eat. One of the mother’s sons finally had enough and made a decision to leave for the military.
One day the mother came home with friends and began taking meth. The daughter played with the other addicts’ children, all of them drug babies.
“Girls. come here!” yelled one of the moms. When the children came, the woman turned to them and in her hand was a tarantula, which she threw down to the floor. The children ran as the eight-legged monster gave chase.
All three of the drugged-up women laughed at their frightened children. The girl’s own mother never stopped the giant spider even as her daughter, soaked with tears, begged her to stop the spider.
Reports of the mother’s behavior eventually reached the police, who came by the house. The mother saw them at the door and told the daughter to answer.
“Hi there.” the ollicer said to the girl. “Is your mother home today?
“No.” the daughter said automatically.
“If you see her, will you be sure to give her this?” The officer handed the girl a piece of paper with a phone number on it. The mother snatched the paper and walked into the fly-infested kitchen.
The child’s grandparents came by to pick her up. She only barely understood that it might be the last time she’d see her mom. The woman tossed off a goodbye and left as the grandparents pulled away with the young grandchild in the backseat.
She was safe now, away from the home that was her hell. The grandparents and child had no idea that the devil would come back to haunt them.
Months after leaving the mother’s home, the girl’s father’s parents were granted custody. One hot afternoon. the child was playing outside while the grandma and grandpa made dinner. The sweet girl was enjoying dunking on her new children’s basketball set. A woman in a car had been watching the young girl for some time and saw her chance.
The car pulled up to the sidewalk in Iront of the house.
“Baby,” the woman said. The child turned to see her mom. “It’s my turn with you. Come on, let’s go.”
“OK,” the girl said, “but let me go get some clothes and tell my grandma, OK?”
“No! Just get in! I already talked to Grandma!” The woman snapped.
The child walked got in the car and it sped off down the road.
Moments later, the grandmother called out the door.
“Time for dinner!” When she tuned in to the silence, panic rushed over her. She had a feeling this was the mother’s doing, since the younger woman had recently rented a home in Portland. The grandmother called the police, and in a matter of hours the child was relieved to be back homc with her grandma and grandpa.
• • •
The television flickered as channels were flashed by. The daughter. now 14, was bored with the channels on the television. Her grandma rocked in her chair, talking on the phone.
She clicked on a call waiting and handed the phone to the teen.
“Hey, Baby. It’s me. your dad. How have you been?”
The daughter felt an immense fear. She hadn’t seen her dad in a very long time.
“OK. How about you?” she answered. She heard voices in the background.
“Good. Hey look I am really sorry but I have to get back to my work shift. Maybe I can take you out sometime.”
“Yeah, that sounds fun Daddy.”
“Okay Baby. Well, I love you.”
Tears rolled down the child’s face from these words.
“No you don’t,” she said to herself.
A few days later the father called back and spoke to the grandmother. That day he made a promise — to clean himself up. for his little girl.
This story is not about me, but a girl I met one year ago.
With her permission I share her story, leaving out the names of the innocent and guilty. Years have passed since this time, and today she is a stronger person.
The grandparents raised her as their own, and no one could have done a better job. Her father also has fulfilled his promise to her. He has never taken a drug since the day he made that promise.
The girl, now a woman, is forever proud of him and thankfuI, and she forgives him. She will never forgive the mother who cursed her childhood.
Her brothers needed to escape the cold reality they faced, and turned to drugs. Even her mother, who smoked crack while pregnant, was looking for way out. The brothers who chose not to do drugs left their mother when it was possible.
Drugs are not the way to escape reality, but instead, a coward’s way out.
My friend is proof that people can survive such families as hers. If a child can escape hell, why can’t you?
HONORABLE MENTION
‘Living My Life,’ by a 16-year-old resident of Cowlitz County
Living in my life, it was hard not to use drugs.
Everywhere I looked there was someone smoking, shooting, drinking, or snorting something.
I never really thought drugs were bad, so I started using drugs when I was 9 and never thought anything of it.
Ever since then, I’ve been getting locked up for drugs, fights, drinking, stealing, etc. And when I was 14 they took me to court and told me I needed extensive drug treatment, so I was sent away to a juvenile prison for two years.
While I was there, people kept trying to tell me that drugs were bad and can kill you or will end you up in jail for the rest of your life, but I just thought “They didn’t know what they’re talking about and they’re just on power trips!”
When I got out, people tried to get me back on drugs. “Come on, man, you went two years without smoking, I know you wanna. ... Like the old days, man.”
At first it ways easy to say no, but then I found myself doing the same old thing, with the same old people, getting drunk and high every day, at first trying to keep my friends but then just doing it because I needed to.
Now I find myself locked up again because of drinking and fighting.
If I could go back I would have done everything different. But there are always things no one can change, like my mom leaving or my dad being in a wheelchair or my two brothers going to prison
Now when I go to school, all the other students look at me like I’m the “the screw-up.’ I just wish I could go to school and have the teachers, students, and everyone else treat me like a normal kid.
When my older brother was not locked up, he was always shooting up or smoking meth. I tried to get him to stop, cause it killed me to see the meth just eating him alive. I wish he could one day look in the mirror and see that it’s not worth it.
Now I found out I could be going back to juvenile prison for a year or two, and I see my little brother going to rehab because of his drug problems, and I see that he’s trying to be like my older brother and me. I’m trying to quit drugs and drinking, but it’s a hard long road.
No matter what people think about me and my family, I don’t think we’re failures. I look at us like gas prices: always changing for better or for worse.
I don’t think the war against drugs will ever be won. The only way to help people with drug problems is to have people like me, who know what it’s like, to talk to them, and show them it’s not worth it and they can make it through their battle. If they really want to change their lives, they need to go to NA and AA meetings so that if they have to walk to that same long road as me, at least they don’t have to walk alone.
HONORABLE MENTION
‘Through My Eyes,’ by 16-year-old Kelso female
When people do drugs and drink, they have to realize that they are hurting themselves and others. They may do it for peer pressure, but I am sure — because I know — that if you say NO, your friends will not disown you or even dislike you. They might even look up to you, and say no themselves.
Some people get into drugs because of family problems. They need to realize that it will only cause more problems. No matter how much pain or suffering you’re going through, you do NOT need drugs and alcohol to get you through it. It’s only a matter of time until it brings you down more, and gets you in a worse spot then when you started.
I will be the first to admit to you that I have smoked what people call weed, reefer, Mary Jane, and marijuana. And to tell you the truth, I loved it. The feeling, the joy, the uncontrollable laughter. And the all-you-can-eat munchies!
My smoking started with my grandpa in the hospital with cancer. Everything was OK, and I was handling everything pretty well. But when things got worse, I didn’t know how to handle myself and tried everything I could to get my mind off of it.
I read, did homework, drew, talked with friends. One day there was this really cute guy at my friend’s house. He was kind of known around the school for being a rebel, and going to parties and coming to school drunk and stoned. I really didn’t care. I needed someone and something to help with losing my grandpa.
He thought I was cute and I thought he was an angel that fell from heaven. So within 30 minutes of dating he asked me if I wanted to come to a party one of his friends was having. And I did. As soon as I walked in he started taking knifers. And said: “Hey, take one with me.”
I said no. But everyone was trying, and he finally talked me into taking a knifer of marijuana. Once I got past the coughing and the burning of my lungs, I loved it. I could not stop laughing, and I love eating, and now I had an excuse to eat.
A lot of people say you don’t get addicted, but I know that you can, and I’m telling you now, you will. You may ask, “How is smoking going to hurt my family when I am doing it to myself?”
Well, when you end up homeless and you have no money or no food, then who cares right? Wrong! Your parents and family care. They might give you tough love or they might take you under their wing.
This hurts them. Do you really think that your parents —- the ones that raised you and put all the work into you and paid for your clothes and food and put a roof ever your head —- want to not talk to you or turn you in to the police?
When you choose to do drugs, you damage yourself on the inside and out, and you also damage your family. It hurts when you know that at anytime your son, daughter, aunt, uncle or any family member could overdose, get busted, get in a drug fight, or go swimming and drown.
I started smoking weed my 8th grade year and I stopped smoking my sophomore year. I am now a junior in high school and have been clean for one year and three months. And I have a B+ average.
If you think that marijuana is not a gateway drug, you’re wrong. You will get bored and want to try a different high. I stopped smoking weed at the end of my sophomore year because I realized that my life was just better, and I had more friends when I didn’t smoke. I also realized that my problems only got worse when I was smoking weed.
Take this advice from someone who is telling you the truth. If you smoke pot think about how your life was before you smoked pot and how you are now.
If you ever sober up, you will find how much better you feel and how good you are doing. Ask yourself, how has your life changed for the good? Has it changed for bad at all? Didn’t think so.
Everyone will believe in you as long as you just try. Go get help if you can’t do it alone, whether from a professional or just a good friend or even your parents.
You will feel and look better. More friends, better grades. Maybe even college. I don’t regret what I did, but I am glad I changed, not for anyone else but for myself.
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