Ice sent woman's life into free fall
• | Drug addiction keeps women's prison filled |
• | Addict's family crumbled beneath ice's grip |
By Johnny Brannon
Advertiser Staff Writer
Crystal Abad started smoking ice when she was 16, the same year she gave birth to a son.
"He always called me names and said how fat I was, so of course I was depressed," Abad said in an interview at the Women's Community Correctional Center, where she has been an inmate for almost three years.
"I heard that when you do ice, it makes you lose weight, so I was curious and I wanted to see if that was true," she said.
The drug was easily available from siblings and friends in her Wahiawa neighborhood, and it helped her escape the depression. At first. But it launched a painful downward spiral that left her life in tatters and taught her some very hard lessons.
"It made me feel good, like I didn't need him anymore," said Abad, now 24. "As I started using more, I started losing weight and for some reason I started feeling good about myself. I didn't care what he felt about me ... It was like I was on my own."
But by the time she was 18, she had smoked herself into a serious addiction and was neglecting her child. Soon, she was arrested for burglary.
"I was doing that to support my habit, and also for the rush, because of the crowd I was with," she said.
She was released on house arrest, with an electronic monitoring device strapped to her ankle. For a short time, things seemed to get better.
"It didn't last long," she said. "I ran into one of my old drug dealer friends and I hooked back up with him and that was it already."
After failing to comply with a requirement that she report regularly to jail officials, she was arrested and spent five months in jail.
She was released on probation and enrolled in an outpatient drug treatment program. But she couldn't leave her old friends behind.
"I had a lot of friends over there (in the program) that smoked ice, so everywhere I went I knew someone who did it," she said.
Children taken away
That prompted state Child Protective Services to take custody of her children, and her new boyfriend was incarcerated.
"That's when I really lost it; when they came and took my kids," Abad said. "I just started getting crazier, nuts, started doing crazy kine things. I felt like without them, without my boyfriend, I didn't care anymore."
In a kind of last gasp, she tried to enroll in a residential treatment program, she said. But her medical insurance wouldn't cover the cost.
"When my kids got taken away, I really felt that I needed the help," she said. "When I got shut down, it was like that was it, nothing I did was good enough. Really, this time I hit rock bottom."
Her addiction was still there, and now she was filled with resentment toward treatment providers.
"I felt like I hated them because they wouldn't accept me," Abad said. "I knew in my heart I was ready and I wanted help. But when I was really serious and I wanted help, no one was there to help me. That's how I felt."
Then things got really bad.
She started running with a rowdier crowd, and got involved in prostitution.
"I remember walking on the street, wondering how I'm going to get my next hit, who I'm gonna be with today, who I'm going to sleep with to get money," Abad said.
She didn't realize how much she was hurting her parents.
"Every time they're hearing an ambulance, they're thinking I'm in the ambulance," she said. "They tell me, they cry to me, but when you're high you don't think. ... I ripped them off, I did all kine stuff."
Soon, she was arrested for stealing a car. As a repeat offender, Abad received a minimum sentence of three years.
In prison, she wanted to withdraw from the world.
"I had a hard time sleeping at night. I would cry. I was really stressing out, and I just felt like doing dead time," she said. "I just held on to so much. Instead of talking about it, I didn't talk to nobody."
But finally, a counselor at the prison convinced her to not give up.
"It took a while, but she got me to open up, talk with her about what I'm going through," Abad said.
She spent the next 15 months in a treatment program that taught her to be independent and responsible and to deal with the feelings that led to her addiction, she said.
"That's what I've built in here, my self-esteem," she said. "When my son's father broke up with me, my self-worth was nothing. I felt I wasn't good enough."
Since completing the treatment program, Abad has remained committed to straightening up, but she knows she has a long way to go.
Through a program for women nearing the end of their sentences, she works at a restaurant during the day, returning to prison at night. She hopes to earn a college degree. And she's got new friends.
'Broke trust' with family
"Before, I never had clean and sober friends," she said. "Now, I have true friends who are going to support me through this journey that I'm on. And I've got beautiful parents who are very supportive. Now it hurts me to see my mom and dad hurt. I broke trust with them so many times."
Abad's daughter is now three. She has been with foster parents since she was five months old.
"I'm not willing to take her away from these people that she considers her parents," Abad said.
Her son was older when she was incarcerated, and hasn't done as well, she said. He's nine now.
"He's been in so many foster homes," Abad said. "And it's because he's angry, they say. He's going through some terrible things, throwing a lot of tantrums. I can imagine he's an angry child, missing me. I'm still trying to fight to see if I can get that one back. One day, I just hope I can let my kids know how much I've changed."
As for her old friends, the ones she got into so much trouble with, Abad said she hasn't forgotten them but knows she has to make a clean break.
"I'm loving them from a distance and praying they get help one day," she said.
Reach Johnny Brannon at jbrannon@honoluluadvertiser.com or 525-8070.