I’m
Alive and Free To Tell My Story
My name is Eliana.
I'm fifty years old. I was born in Santiago, Chile. I came to the United States
at the age of eight with my oldest sister in 1965. My mother, who was an entertainer,
thought that she could give my sister and I a better education by enrolling
us in private Catholic school. If only my mother could have predicted the future,
I'm sure she would have done things differently. I'm a recovering addict; I
was hooked on one of the most horrifying drugs that ever existed. This drug
took away my youth, my identity, and my self- esteem. This drug raped me of
my dignity and self-respect, and took me places, places I never knew existed.
For seventeen years of my life I was hooked on heroin. I experienced a lifestyle
like no one can ever imagine. It has been a lifestyle of which I am not particularly
proud, but one that has taught me lessons that I will never forget. It has been
a long and lonely struggle, no one has, or can imagine the pain that I have
experienced.
Who could ever imagine that my mother's good intentions for my sister and I
to have a safe and healthy lifestyle, would end in such misfortune? I don't
believe for one second that anyone could actually plan someone else's fate.
Life has its own way of unfolding. Somehow we just don't know how our lives
are going to turn out. I rebelled at a very young age and was an angry and unhappy
child. I had most of my needs met, like food, clothes, nice home, all the toys
a child could wish for; and we even had a nanny and a maid. You could say I
had a pretty good life; at least that is the way it appeared.
My sister and I spent most of our childhood in boarding schools. After a period
of time my sister went to live with my grandmother, and soon after she was enrolled
in public school. I, on the other hand, remained in boarding school. I missed
my sister. I never understood why I was left behind alone; I was always sad
and I cried myself to sleep at night. I hated the school. I rebelled from all
authority and especially from my family.
I started running away from school. At the age of fifteen, while on a visit
home from school, I ran away again in hopes of never ever returning to the boarding
school. As you can see I felt that there was nothing at school for me but pain
and loneliness. It was such a strict environment, I was always getting in trouble,
I would lose things like my uniform tie, and my white gloves were always getting
dirty. I had a hard time with the rules and the constant discipline; it seemed
that I was always late for something. It felt like I was forever being punished
for something that I did wrong without ever knowing why.
My mother was never around so my grandmother was in charge of making all the
final decisions that pertained to me. She insisted that I remain in school and
be kept back from any home visits until I learned to behave in school. Then
finally when I did make it out for a weekend visit, I felt like I was paroled
from prison. I was certain of one thing. I did not want to go back to the school,
ever. It was more like an imprisonment for children than a private Catholic
school. It was on that day when my life took a turn for the worst. I didn't
have a clue as to where I was going, where I was going to sleep or what I was
going to do for food; my only thought was to run, to run as far as I possibly
could. Some place where I couldn't be found.
As things turned out on this journey I met all kinds of people, different people,
people who knew a lot about the streets and the drug scene; pimps, con artists,
Hells Angeles, prostitutes, tricks and Joes. I was learning really fast. I had
to grow up quickly in order to keep up with the crowd. I said, and did, anything
I had to do. I thought I was big and bad enough to do what I wanted. I was learning
all the tricks and trades I needed about how to survive, and how to stay alive.
This meant stealing, robbing, prostituting, lying, and cheating, luring men
out of the bars and robbing them clean. I acted like an animal, and I ran with
animals.
These people that I ran with were simply cold-blooded criminals. These criminals
preyed on people like myself who were vulnerable and desperate. When I was first
introduced to using heroin, it was by a white biker gal whose name was Sally.
I was scared of the thought of using heroin, especially intravenously. This
fearful thought only lasted a very quick second; the high that I got was the
best feeling I had ever experienced. Heroin immediately became my first love.
I began to use more and more each time. It seemed to me like all the people
I knew around me were using heroin. I was getting it for free, until I got strung
out. That's when I gave birth to this demon, my personal demon, named heroin.
This demon lived in me and destroyed my life for seventeen years; I was called
a junkie. I had to start paying for my fix; I could no longer get it for free.
In a period of six to eight months, I was a full-blown heroin junkie. I did
whatever it took to support this horrifying habit, like selling my body in prostitution,
and as the years passed, I even got married. I only had the courage to stay
clean long enough to give birth. All together I had three children, two boys
and a girl. My marriage ended in divorce due to domestic violence. My husband
would drink and beat me senseless while accusing me of cheating. My children
were taken away from me by the state, and were raised in foster homes. I tried
to get them back, but my habit was much stronger than the love for my children.
I continued to use heroin and live dangerously.
I began doing things that were unforgivable, like breaking into churches and
stealing anything I could use or sell to support my habit. Many things I did
were things too horrible and grueling to even mention. I started getting arrested,
and soon after that I was headed to prison. It seems I have spent most of my
life confined in some way or another while fighting off my demons. With all
that I have been through in my life, the multiple rapes, being tied up with
a gun aimed in my mouth and all of the drug overdoses, I should be dead by now.
It is by the grace of my higher power that I am alive — and free to tell
my story. I have been clean and sober and off of heroin for fifteen years. I
have a great relationship with my first three children now, and I also got a
second chance at life when I gave birth to my youngest daughter Destiny.
Destiny was born in 1995. She is now ten years old. I want to set an example
for my daughter Destiny so that she too can achieve her goals and not travel
the same road that I traveled. I am the first in my family to go to college,
and I am finally proud of my life. During my sobriety I have achieved many goals
that I have set for myself. I have worked as a volunteer for the Women's Shelter
Services. I took classes in domestic violence, child abuse, destructive adolescence,
parenting, anger management, women's economic ventures and relapse prevention.
I also volunteered at Project Recovery and participated in parenting leadership
of Santa Barbara. I was a motivational speaker for the "Sober Moms and
Their Kids" workshop at Santa Barbara City College. I am pleased to say
this is my third semester as a student of Santa Barbara City College. My plans
are to get my certificate in the Alcohol and Drug Counseling program. I am looking
forward to a brighter future helping to educate those who are traveling on the
path of self-destruction like I once did. I continue to see a brighter future
for Destiny and myself. I continue to remain clean and sober.