Love Made Me Do It

by Tamekia Nicole

I spent more than 24 hours in a holding tank with more than 30 women. There was a TV mounted to the wall, one toilet and one phone. I found a spot on one of the benches. Curled up, tucked my arms inside of my shirt and went to sleep. I only woke up because it was chow time.

  I stayed in jail for 11 days. I was charged with a gross misdemeanor and possession of a controlled substance, and sentenced to a one year outpatient rehab program. They let me out at 7 in the morning. The first thing I did was call my job. I was fired. I inquired about my last check and they said it had been ready for days. I called our house hoping that his mama would answer the phone, but the number was either disconnected or changed.

  I freshened up in the bathroom in the lobby of the police station trying to figure out a way to get to my job. As my co-defendant he would be getting out within just a few hours. So I waited for hours, and hours. I checked in with the Deputy who insisted that they were just a little behind. My lover never appeared because he had a warrant in the City Jail, which was another jurisdiction in Vegas. They had transferred him hours ago and he would be spending at least two weeks there.

  I felt weak. I had a few dollars in my pocket and I had planned on eating with that money and making phone calls. Now I needed to figure out what I was going to do. So I started walking and thinking. Cell phones had everyone so spoiled. There were few numbers that I actually knew by heart. Calling my mom was out of the question or my sister, those bridges weren’t burned. But they were definitely under construction.

  Tired and dusty I picked up the pay phone in front of the Greyhound station. I dialed his brother’s number at first he didn’t answer. When he finally picked up I told him the situation, and he said he would be on his way. On his way turned out to be four hours later.

  When I got in the car I didn’t say shit. Options were non-existent at this point. I did ask about his mama, if she moved or was the phone disconnected. He basically told me that his mother wasn’t fuckin with us, the police had towed her truck and there was drug paraphernalia found in the car. It wasn’t that I was speechless, but I knew there was nothing to be said. I believed what he said, because it was the truth. That night that we were arrested we had been on a mission all day, more than eight hours.

  I stayed at his brother’s house for over two weeks. He ended up with more than half of my last paycheck. Those two weeks were miserable. I was thankful but miserable. Their family structure was not set up for me. I wore his niece’s clothes because I could not get to mine His brother and his wife complained about that. Damned if I do and damned if I don’t.

  Every time they went to the store I prayed they wouldn’t ask me for any money. This situation was depleting my pockets. His mama finally took a call from me after I asked the brother to contact her. She was dry and unforgiving. So I let it go. My lover would be out in just a few days. I could hang on until then, there was no other choice.

  Living in a house where more than four people don’t like you is rough. I felt like I better wake up the earliest, eat the least, and be as quiet as possible in order not to argue with anyone. I am way too clumsy to be that careful. So there were snide remarks made on both ends, but mostly with his nieces. His nieces acted more like grown women than little kids. Their parents allowed them to be that way. So if they were smart mouthed with me, I let their asses have it.

  The wife was okay, but you couldn’t really trust her either. She was a shit disturber. She made up situations that never happened. You never knew when she would strike either. Her son’s wife was alright we wound up getting very close down the line. Sometimes we would all hang-out. While my lover was still locked up I was invited to go have a drink. So I went.

  We all of dreams of getting married to our lovers, we joked about who would get married first. I always thought me and my lover would get married. I ended up with a tattoo that night of my lover’s name. Big and Bold.

  Finally, the day came that he would be getting out and I couldn’t wait to let him discover his name branded on me. I couldn’t wait to tell him to take me home. I couldn’t wait to be in our bed together. There were millions of reasons why I was so happy.

  But when he came home he was already drunk, out of control and talking loud. He wouldn’t listen to what I had to say. He kept touching me and pinching me. I was immediately turned off. This caused a fight. There were signs everywhere for me to leave him. I ignored them. I ignored all the possibilities of getting my life back. That first night he was back was uncomfortable and very similar to a roasting session with me and the guest of honor. They were a nasty bitter bunch of people.

  After a few days the situation with his mama was resolved. Upon my return to my house, I discovered that all of my clothes and shoes had been taken, by his bothers side chick. My father’s obituary was gone along with all the pictures from the funeral. My check stubs and other personal papers had been ransacked. They were no good, but they couldn’t blame it on drugs. They were just mean.

  Worrying about his mama and my missing items were the least of my problems. I was appointed to be in a rehab Mon – Friday for the next four weeks, starting the following week. This rehab was almost 30 miles from our house and with no gas and no job. I would be lucky if I made it to one meeting.

  Although we were fresh out of jail, the criminal in us wasn’t dead. It was simply resting until a desperate situation present itself. Drugs were a desperation situation they called our names like roosters waking up the world…when you heard the crow, it was loud and consistent, and it made you move.

  Everybody was watching us and everybody kept popping up. I tried to stay busy. I looked for a job. When I was high I just stayed in my room. There was no need to make conversation with people that came over. They didn’t really like me anyway. Being high was the ultimate escape, but I could never escape all the trouble I was in. Now I had a criminal record in Vegas. Life was going to be hard for me until I decided I was sick of what was going on.

  My last hope was going to be rehab. God please grant me the strength to get clean and stay clean.

  CHAPTER 32

  REHAB

  (Actual, court documentation)

  Usually I was the one to get the lighter sentence, but this time I was the only one sentenced to the rehab program. I was the only one that was caught with drugs. Living in a house with someone who wants to get high 24/7 is rough. Sobriety was going to be impossible. Maybe it could have been simpler if I really wanted to quit and he would stop with me. But once again I covered for my lover. I told the court that there was no one in my household who was using.

  Although I had justifiable reasons to why it may have been hard to shake my addiction, the judge would not care about any of those reasons. I was expected to be at the rehab and giving clean U.A’s and participating in the program. Fuck. I had every intention to get thru this. If I failed I would be sitting in Clark County Detention Center serving out my original sentence.

  Rehab consisted of four phases. It was a year-long program. Every phase required giving urine samples. In the first phase you gave five samples a week, in the second phase, it three as well as in the third phase. When you reached the final phase, you only did 1 urine sample a week. The program was called Drug Court. If you were sentenced there by Judge Donald Mosely…you better complete it or you would be going to prison.

  Rehab was very hard for me. It was hard to open up to perfect strangers. Especially, when you felt as if you had nothing in common with them. Giving a urine sample was a very belittling experience. There was a lady who sat in the stall with you. You could not sit down, and you pulled your clothes all the way down to your ankles. You collected your sample in the cup that they provided and handed it to her. Most of the time I found it difficult to pee in front of someone. But just like everything else in your life whether good or bad…you learn to deal with it.

  As much as I wanted to stay clean I just couldn’t. I started getting worse. Although I was going to rehab, I had submitted seven consecutive dirty U.A’s. The judge w
as going to have my ass. But I just couldn’t shake the urge to get high. Without a support system and no will power it was impossible to stay on track, so I fell off. I stopped going to rehab and my focus was elsewhere. I was too busy trying to control a man who had shown me time and time again that there was no love between us. I submitted to him and everything that he wanted to do. Whether it was getting high or committing crimes I was in 100%.

  Not long after I stopped going to rehab, there was a warrant issued for my arrest and I caught yet another burglary case. I was arrested and sent to jail. When I showed up in court, I was speechless. The judge ripped me a new asshole. This time when I looked over and saw my lover in court as my codefendant, I felt hopeless and stupid. He thought he had control of our situation. No one did, especially not him.

  (Actual, court documentation)

  We stayed in jail the entire summer. I was miserable. I played cards, wrote letters and watched my surroundings. The only thing that kept my hope alive, was knowing that once I finished my sentence I would be welcomed back into the rehab. Although, I hadn’t showed much promise when I first started, sitting in jail an entire summer had changed my tune.

  We wrote to each other at least three to four times a week. I felt as if our relationship may have a chance, now that we were dried up and apart. I always had the most mail that was covered in art and was at least five pages long. I lived for those letters. I wished that I could believe the promises that were expressed in those letters. But as I would soon discover those words, were just words on both ends. Broken promises and blurred lines.

  Getting out after a three month jail sentence made me feel brand new to the world, I just wanted to get in a nice hot bath and put on my own panties. You never know that things that you will miss the most until you no longer have access to them. Of course I wound up out of jail before he did, because we had different criminal backgrounds. So once again I would be calling to see which one of his family members could pick me up from jail.

  This time my luck getting out of jail was worse than the time before. All of the numbers I had for his mama and his brother were disconnected. I got a ride to my house. Opened the front door with my key only to discover that the house I lived in was now occupied by someone else. The locks had not been changed. I began looking around to see if the owner was there, and dog started charging towards me. I slammed the door closed and started crying. On the way back to the car, I threw what used to be my house key in the garbage. I had been through worse and I would get through this too.

  Thankfully I had made a few friends in jail that let me stay with them, until I got on my feet. I only had the clothes on my back and I didn’t know where to start. I wanted to sleep away my days and cry away my nights. But time waits for no one and I was no different. The best part about being in jail for 3 months was that I was clean & sober. I did not have any urges to use. I had a chance to change the direction my life was going in.

  There was nothing more that I wanted than to be internally happy. There was a decision that needed to be made. I either was going to choose life or choose death. I was tired of other people making choices for me. The judge, my lover, his mama, his brother, and everyone else had a say in my destiny except for me.

  A whole month went by with no contact from my in laws or him. I carried on with my life. The clothes I had I washed those every other day and washed my panties and bra out every night. I borrowed money from my friend so that I could get on the bus every day and go to my rehab program. I was down but not defeated. I tried to hone in on what God wanted me to do. His guidance was drowned out by the other noise in my head, which I assume was the devil trying to lead me astray.

  Finally I heard from my lover. He was out and had moved in with his mama, his brother and his side chick. What a relief to know that he was okay. His clothes were carefully moved on to a new house, but my belongings could not be accounted for. This was life as I knew it. This was life as I allowed it to be.

  I wanted to be mad, I wanted to fight about my clothes, shoes, and Lord knows I wanted to fight about my pictures and keep sakes…but why, when I had zero chance of winning. So I stayed silent and went with the flow of things.

  Rehab was going okay, I learned to open up to the groups I was in and take from the program only what was needed. I soul searched and made promises to God that I would do my best to keep. I prayed so hard and so long that tears would stream from my eyes. Something was bound to change. Not knowing what the change would be. I just kept moving forward on my own behalf.

  Feelings of suicide came and went. Feelings of using came and went. But the feeling of being alone stayed with me. My loneliness sometimes came out during my group sessions in rehab as I fought back tears. Often people thought I wanted someone to feel sorry for me. That was never the case. I wanted someone to say that they understood and give me a fool proof plan. That not even I could fuck up.

  I was moving thru my phases in the rehab and I felt good. I had moved around a bit with a few different friends. Quickly I learned who was really down for me and who was trying to come up. I had made what I thought was a good friend. But her and her god sister attempted to pimp me and thought I was going to be cleaning the house as payment for room and board. Guess what? I wasn’t going to be participating in any of those plans. I was trying to do the right thing.

  I finally settled in with someone who had enough room for me to be there as long as I needed, with no underlying motives, for me to bring in money or be a maid. That felt good. My lover had helped replenish my wardrobe. Finally an end to my same clothes every day marathon. The only major issue I had with my new roommate was…. she was a dope dealer. As a recovering addict with three months under my belt, this would be a true test of my will power. Lord, please help me keep my demons away.

  CHAPTER 33

  BATTLING DEMONS

  My new roommate was very mindful of my situation. I was mindful that she needed a resource to make money. I stayed busy and when she was serving those in need of drugs, I distracted myself.

  By court order I could not live with my lover. I could only see him on weekends and that was perfect for me. I only needed him in small doses anyway. This worked well for us, because it gave us the opportunity to miss one another. Plus get our own lives together. I knew that if I was away from him, I could get a lot more things done for myself.

  I was blessed to get an awesome job. Slowly I started saving money and acting like an adult. Before I knew it I was promoted to Assistant Manager in the call center I was working for. At first it was rough the same group I started with, were now my employees. The hated me. I could care less. I was on a mission to find a level of success. I worked hard every day, went to rehab from work. I was at peace with myself.

  My probation officer was very proud of me and I had submitted nothing but clean U.A’s for months now. My lover picked me up every Friday after work. We were doing what normal couples did. We made love, we went to the movies, we went to buffets and we truly started enjoying each other. The fact that we had the ability to reconnect after all the damage was astounding. I loved every moment that we shared together.

  Of course every wonderful moment that I had involving him was short lived. We had decided to go out to breakfast one Saturday morning, me, him and his mama. That’s when she asked me how I felt about his brother’s side chick coming to work at my job. I was floored to say the least. I was unaware that she applied and was hired. Apparently I was the only one that didn’t know. If you hated someone, stole their clothes, and did everything in your power to destroy them…why would you come and work where they worked? My only answer is… to further destroy their hard work. This is exactly what she tried to do.

  I was always the bigger person. I always welcomed everyone with open arms, even my enemy. On her first day of work, I walked over to her department and welcomed her to the company. I bought her lunch and made her feel at home. I was comfortable with whom I was, and the purpose I served within that company. I was s
pecial and the owners adored me. I was carefree and flourishing in my new position.

  Upper management was well aware that on some days during the week, I left early to go to my rehab program. Not everyone I worked with knew this information because they didn’t need it too. I was fighting my demons successfully or so I thought.

  One day out of the month I would go and see my Probation Officer and give reports of how I was doing. I was honest about my criminal past and my ongoing battle with drugs. But the side chick felt that it was necessary to tell anyone and everyone that did not know. That I was a drug addict. She was very bold, telling all my business in a break room when I wasn’t even there to defend myself. She was a sneaky, ungrateful, hateful bitch. Those are harsh words and although I know longer feel like that. At that time she had shown me nothing to the contrary, to make me think otherwise.

  When I found out what was said from a reliable source. I immediately contacted my lover. Luckily she never came back after that day. Neither my lover, nor his brothers were too happy about her actions. Idle chit chat like that in a corporate environment would stop the flow of money. No one could agree with that. This was one of the few times when my lover and my in-laws had my back. What a relief, had their not been anything done. I was going to make every day she worked a living nightmare.

  The drugs weren’t much of an issue. If I felt triggered to use I talked about it, in my groups. I never worried my lover with how I felt, because I was being mindful of what may trigger him. The traffic at my house picked up. I noticed that addicts were frequently at the door or inside the house when I was there. I never said too much about it because I had no other options. Being homeless so many times really humbled my words and actions towards others. But deep down inside I knew that this would not be a safe place for me too much longer.

  With the side chick gone, I was able to once again be carefree at work. The job was a lot of pressure, I had to make sure that I had a team that produced numbers and took care of customers the right way. Although I was apprehensive when I was advised that I would be getting help from a manager that the company was going to bring in…it gave me a sense of relief. I was looking forward to building an allegiance with a person that had more skillset than I did at being a manager.