One morning I woke up dope sick. I needed a bag of heroin. I said to myself, “I’m not just going to lie here sick.” So I got up and went to a dope dealer I knew and told him to help me out with a bag. He said to me, “Here, do this bag and sell these.”
I went in the bathroom and got my fix. That day the dope was very strong so I came out of that bathroom real high. I could barely see straight. I remember the dealer said to me, “Look how high and thin you look. You’re a mess and even if I lose the hundred dollars, I hope the cops arrest you so you can get help, ’cause I know you’re better than this.”
From his mouth to God’s ears.
‘This Cat Set Me Up’
I had never sold dope on the
streets before, but it took only one time to get caught. This guy who I bought dope from every day came up to me. I said, “Yo, watsup, baby?” He said, “I’m really sick. Do you have anything on you?” I gave him two bags and he gave me a twenty-dollar bill. I put it in my pocket.
Everything that happened next seemed surreal, like a movie
in slow motion. I was walking towards this girl who was being loud, attracting attention to
the corner, getting it hot. I was ready to whip her ass when I looked back and saw cop cars making U turns, tires screeching, cops running towards me out of nowhere.
They caught up to me, slammed me up against a fence, and pro- duced a marked twenty-dollar bill from my pocket. I was like, “Oh, no! This cat set me up.
But you know what? What that cat did to me saved my life.
I Had Never Felt So Much Shame
Before I got arrested, my family told me I needed a program. All I would say was, “I’m not locking myself up in no program.”
But when I got arrested, it was like God smacked me on the head, sat me down long enough to get me sober, and made
me take a look at my life long enough to ask myself: “What am I doing? What the heck is wrong with me?”
The day I went before a judge,
I was at least 30 pounds under- weight for my height, my hair looked crazy, I had two pairs of pants on thinking it would make me look fatter, and my cheeks were sunken in. I always looked like I was whistling. I looked smoked out ’cause, oh yeah, I had a crack and alcohol prob- lem, too.
When I looked up, who was sit- ting on the bench but a woman who used to be my co-worker. Yes, I used to work in the courts. Yes, I used to have a good job, a business, a marriage, a family, friends, I blew it all without even realizing it.
When that judge saw me, she had to take off her glasses and take a second look. She said, “Sandra?” in disbelief. I wanted the earth to swallow me. I had never ever felt so much shame.
All I could do was put my head down. I couldn’t bring myself to look up throughout the whole arraignment. She remanded me to Rikers and set bail.
‘God Don’t Make No Junk’
When I called my lawyer four days later, she told me that the judge told her that I am a good person, a good mother and
a good co-worker. The judge didn’t understand what had hap- pened to me but asked my law- yer to help me as much as she could. She said the judge said she loved me and was praying for me.
That was it. I broke down and all I could do was cry and cry, a deep cry that came from deep within my soul. I cried out to God and asked him to help me, that I couldn’t stand myself any more and I couldn’t stop using by myself. I saw myself as a waste, a loser, just like every- body in jail. And I said, “No. I will be somebody ’cause God don’t make no junk.”
I was sent to a drug-rehabilita- tion program where I stayed for 17 months. I knew rehab was where I needed to be. I was ready to surrender.
Pain From the Past
In rehab, I began connecting to the emotions that might have led me to use in the first place.
I learned that I used in order to medicate pain I didn’t want to feel—especially memories of growing up with my mom.
One time during a group therapy, we were listening to a tape that asked us to remember how we felt when we were real little kids, up to 5 years old. Five years old was not a happy time for me. I had just come to this country, leaving my dad all the people I knew and loved back home in the Dominican Republic. I had left the familiar warmth of my home, my coun- try, its people.
Breaking the Cycle
I came to the U.S. to live with my mother, who abused me. In the session, I remembered being slapped and punched for break- fast, lunch and dinner. I remem- bered welts, bruises and broken lips. I remembered incest. I remembered being immersed
in a tub of very hot water. I still felt very vividly the sorrow and the fear of being 5 years old.
For a few months after that flood of memories I was very depressed. Nothing made me happy. Every time I saw the therapist, I would chase her down and say, “Hey, when are you going to take me out of 5 years old?”
I kept going to counseling, though, and eventually I
came out of that depression. Confronting my past helped me put it behind me. I learned that my past did not have to write my future. I could break the cycle. First I had to learn not
to abuse myself. Then I had to accept that by living the life I was living, I hurt not only myself, but my children and my family.
Praying for My Daughter
At the time, I had eight kids. Some live with my mother
and some live with my father because when I was using drugs, I was unable to care for them.
My eighth daughter, Mattie, was put in foster care just before I was arrested. After I had been in treatment for four months, they began talking about ter- minating my rights. I refused to believe that God had brought me this far to allow me to lose my daughter.
The people at the foster care agency, St. Christopher’s Inc. helped me immensely. The first day I went there, my casework supervisor, Sid, said to me as I sat there scared to death and ashamed, “Forget about what you did in the past. It’s what you do from today on that counts.” That started a trust, because he didn’t judge me.
Learning to Bond
While I was in treatment, I kept running to my caseworker to share with her my accomplish- ments: completing parenting, completing my vocational train- ing, getting a job, getting my apartment. And she and Sid would say, “We’re so proud of you. See, you’re doing it.”
Still, reunification is never easy, especially if your child was removed at birth. My daughter had become accustomed to the ways of her foster mom, and she didn’t always want to be with me.
The hardest times were on weekend visits. She would cry for her foster mom all the time. I would wonder if it would always be this way. But I kept going to my visits and bond-
ing with my daughter. And,
on September 18, 1998, my daughter was returned to me.
Now every night when I get home from work, I feed Mattie and get us ready for bed. Then I put her in my bed and read to her a picture book and explain to her what the pictures are and what the colors are and
ask her questions to see if she understands. I continue to read
until she falls asleep.
There Is a Way Out
After I got Mattie back, I also became a parent advocate at
a foster care agency, helping other parents who were in the same situation I was in. I even became a special assistant to the executive offices. I have found a direction and a pas- sion for helping others see that there is a way out.
I used to ask God why he kept me alive. But now I think that if I had not gone through all I’ve been through, I would not understand to the extent that
I do and be able to reach out and help others. I’m not proud of some of the things I’ve done. But I’m willing to risk the shame to share if it will help one of you not walk a mile in my shoes.
Still, reunification is never easy, especially if your child was removed at birth. My daughter had become accustomed to the ways of her foster mom, and she didn’t always want to be with me.
The hardest times were on weekend visits. She would cry for her foster mom all the time. I would wonder if it would always be this way. But I kept going to my visits and bond-
ing with my daughter. And,
on September 18, 1998, my daughter was returned to me.
Now every night when I get home from work, I feed Mattie and get us ready for bed. Then I put her in my bed and read to her a picture book and explain to her what the pictures are and what the colors are and
ask her questions to see if she understands. I continue to read
until she falls asleep.
There Is a Way Out
After I got Mattie back, I also became a parent advocate at
a foster care agency, helping other parents who were in the same situation I was in. I even became a special assistant to the executive offices. I have found a direction and a pas- sion for helping others see that there is a way out.
I used to ask God why he kept me alive. But now I think that if I had not gone through all I’ve been through, I would not understand to the extent that
I do and be able to reach out and help others. I’m not proud of some of the things I’ve done. But I’m willing to risk the shame to share if it will help one of you not walk a mile in my shoes.