I got your letter today, the one where you wrote about not having any friends other than your family. I haven’t written because I’ve been working from 4A-8P, 7 days a week- I’m old and tired.
Please try not to worry about anything. Spend as much of this time as you can on yourself; use the peace and quiet to your advantage, thinking about who you are and who you’d like to be. You’re capable of a lot more than you give yourself credit for. I remember how happy you were to spend time alone with Joe, Kayla. I liked to see you come over with him after meetings. One of the commenters on the BDN said you looked like a young Joan Crawford, that’s a compliment. You’ve got a lot going for you, think about what you’re interested in, what do you love to do? If you can work at what you love you’ll be happy.
I sent you a card when you first went to jail, it was returned to me because cards aren’t allowed. In it I asked if you were in love with the young man who died, I still wonder if you were. I wrote to you that I was sorry for your loss and I’m still sorry. It must have been a frightening situation; even if you were way high, it still must have been pretty scary.
I feel sorry for the cop who shot him. He’ll have to live with it for the rest of his life. No one gets up in the morning thinking ‘Oh good, maybe I’ll shoot someone and they’ll die today.’ His life has been impacted as much as yours has been, probably more so. If I’d been in his position I would have done the very same thing. If you want to shoot at me you’d better be prepared to get shot at.
I’ve read the charges against you. I know why you went to court last week. Under the right circumstances I could be where you are.
The good news is the State is becoming proactive about the narcotics pandemic. I’m hopeful your sentence will include treatment and some kind of maintenance program. You might consider the many ways you could help others in similar situations or just help people in general. I realize that you have your kids to think of first but you can always help someone else in some small way. Maybe you could start writing your story, the truth about how you became a junkie. It could help someone, Kayla. You went from being a girl who loved pink and wearing cute outfits to a life that is very different than you or any of us would have imagined. If you wrote about how that happened you could help other people. Think about it.
You liked the way drugs made you feel so you indulged yourself. People do it every day with cigarettes, booze, sex, gambling, shopping, and food. You’re not a bad person. If you identify specifically what it was that you liked about being high and you think about why you liked it, you’ll be better able to find meaningful ways to feel good. Concentrate on yourself; your kids are safe with your mother and they’re so young that they won’t remember any of this. Think about the best, happiest days of your life. List the reasons those days were the best, why were you happiest, what can you do to be happy again? You’re going to be surprised by the strong woman who lives inside you.
Each day is a fresh start on a happy ending.
This is the last letter I wrote to her. It was returned to me because she refused it. I think she read things I had written that she didn’t want to know. The piece in the paper was written in 2008. I wrote it in harsh opposition to methadone/suboxone treatment after Joe broke his neck. As blog followers know, I didn’t mince words in the post immediately following Joe’s death; it didn’t flatter her mother and one’s mother should be sacred. Maybe in the future she’ll decide she’d like to hear from me again, maybe not.