truthforteens

It was 1970 and nobody in my family knew anything about addiction. My dad went down to Reston Virginia to talk to Vietnam vets that were heroin addicts. That was his knowledge base. They told him to help me survive, and to keep me separate from the family.

Came to the end of myself, in a prison cell in maximum security, I was just tired. I tried everything, so I cried out to God. Instead of committing suicide with the last bit of heroin I had, I flushed it down the toilet.

Not there yet haha! I'd say about 5 years, still wake up "in prison" sometimes. You can view it as post-traumatic stress, or post-traumatic growth. I look at my prison time as the reason I'm alive today.

My first job out of prison was tile grout aisle in Home Depot. I was hired by a guy in my church support group that cared about me. We don't do well without support.

Take down style bank robberies, because of the psychological impact. One of the things that bothered me the most was a guy telling me about his mom that worked for a bank that I robbed, she couldn't go into work anymore. That was me that did that to her.

You know what I didn't. I wouldn't have known how to. I met her son in prison but I still remember her name. Sorry Mrs. Skinner from Alberta.