My name is Megan. I am 23 years old. I have been clean for 19 months as of February 14th, 2013. Let me tell you all how I got to this point. I want to say I started drinking when I was about 14. By 15 I was snorting pills occasionally. Plus, I did whatever else was around whenever it was around. I had a boyfriend from 16-19 who became addicted to opiates during the relationship. I used moderately, he used heavily. We had a baby in June 2008. I stayed with him as long as I could, through rehab and everything. He couldn't get it together. On top of his addiction he had become violent with me and wasn't a dad to our child at all. We split up in 2009.

Within a week I was questioning my life. I love my daughter but being a 19 year old single parent is not where I saw my life. I turned to pills. I don't even know when I crossed the line to the point of no return. Just over 6 months in, my mom had become aware of the situation. I had a new boyfried at that time. Who was using before we met, so?this added more?fuel to the fire. His name was Pete. My mom gave me a choice, get clean or get out. I left. I lived out of my car for a week. When I ran out of money I called her and told her I was ready to get help. We went to the emergency room at a hospital with a detox center. Our insurance wouldn't cover it. So, I went home. I spent 4 days in the back bedroom of the house trying to detox alone. The pain was unbearable. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, all I could do was cry and puke.

At that time my boyfriend was with his parents detoxing on his own. We met back up 5 days in. The 6th day, we got high. We told ourselves it would only be on the weekends or every so often. But, it wasn't. It went right back to everyday. I managed to hide it from my family for a few more months. In that time , we were introduced to heroin. At first, all we did was snort it. In June, my mom kicked me out again. We moved just out of town with some "friends". Three of them actually, and they were all addicts. The second day there we shot up heroin. That was the beginning of the end. The worst decision I could have made at that time. It was so intense. A feeling I had never felt. I thought it was the best choice ever. I though, "Wow, you can get more high with so much less when you bang it insted of snort it". Well, that's the case, for the first day. Then, you're doing more than you ever were before. Withdrawals come on sooner and they are?more intense.

Anyway, three months after moving out there, Pete and I decided we wanted to get our crap together. We packed up and moved a thousand miles away, to Florida. We lived with my aunt. Who has a son, who is also a?drug addict. We went to the methadone clinic and my aunt tried to "ween" us with vicodin. We were down there a month. We decided we were okay enough to come home and that's what we did. Three days after coming home, we got high. Everything got progressively worse. Pete became abusive. Minor at first, a push, a punch to the leg, a kick. We were living with my family for 6 months when we decided to move two hours away to Pete's hometown. Bad mistake. When I left, I was on good terms with my family. Pete became more abusive as time went on. After being up there five months I called my mom and said I want help. I came home and went to a detox. I was supposed to be there for about ten days. I made it five.

My mom and aunt came and picked me up. I went back to Pete. Yet another bad decision. This time, my mom and I weren't on good terms. She took my phone and anything else I had. I went back to Pete with one thing and one thing only, a terrible heroin addiction. I stayed with him for another two months. Everytihng was so bad. He became Hitler. He controlled everything. Sometimes he would eat meals with his boss and leave me home with no food. I got caught trying to shoplift food from a gas station. The fights were more intense. I thought I was going to die on more than one occasion. I didn't know what to do. I had nobody to turn to, I was dependent on drugs and my horrible boyfriend. One day he knew it was bad, worse than usual. He took all the sheets and hid them because he thought I was going to hang myself. I didn't try to do that. Instead, I ate every kind of sleeping pill we had. I would have rather gone to sleep to never wake up rather than living another day going through withdrawals and fear for my life. I woke up. I puked, a bunch. I didn't die.

Shortly after that I decided I could not do it any longer. I called Louis. My first real boyfriend. The father to my daughter. At that time, he was seeing her more than I was. He talked to my mom and they came to get me the next day. I left without telling Pete. I was scared of what he would do. After I got home I went to an inpatient rehab called Conifer Park. I honestly believe I would be dead if I didn't get out when I did. I never talked to Pete again. I finally have my life together. I have a boyfriend who would never lay a hand on me. I bought a car. I have a full time job. And, I am a mommy to my wonderful four year old. I didn't know that it could happen to me.

I didn't know you could become addicted to opiates. Who knew something your doctor gives you can completely destroy your life? People need to know. Teenagers need to know. They need to know that it CAN happen to them. They need to know that family history plays a part. They need to be informed before they make the same mistakes I did. And to the people that already made those mistakes, know that you can come out of it. For so long I thought that it couldn't be done. I thought that I could not live without drugs. Well, I'm proof. I'm doing alright. I'm a functioning member of society and I have so much to be grateful for. You can have the same things. Don't give up. Don't ever give up.