News (Media Awareness Project) - US OR: Dad's Second Chance |
Title: | US OR: Dad's Second Chance |
Published On: | 2006-08-06 |
Source: | Mail Tribune, The (Medford, OR) |
Fetched On: | 2008-01-13 06:29:42 |
DAD'S SECOND CHANCE
EDITOR'S NOTE: This is the fourth in a series of stories on addicts
recovering from meth use. The stories run on the first Sunday of each month.
When child welfare workers came to collect his son and daughter,
Louie Soto blamed them for all his problems, including addiction to
methamphetamine.
After all, theirs was the system that raised him.
"I'm a total throw-away," the 38-year-old said.
But after years of enduring abuse, homelessness and pain that he
masked with drugs, losing his children was the incentive Soto needed
to stop wishing he would die and to start living life. Drug-free for
the past three and a half years and a full-time father again, Soto
encourages other addicts on the path to sobriety. Preaching hope,
he's found, exorcises his own demons and helps him give his children
the childhood he never had.
A self-proclaimed "product of the system," Soto said he was taken as
a baby to the New York Foundling Hospital. His earliest memories are
of numerous foster homes. At age 6, Soto was adopted by a family who
subjected him to beatings and long hours locked in a basement. At age
13, he ran away for good.
When he wasn't on the streets, Soto lived in shelters, group homes
and juvenile detention. He slept in trees and ate out of trash cans.
He knew about drugs, but the simple fact of survival kept him too
busy to get high, he said.
"Then it was about 'Where was I going to lay my head?' " he said.
Soto knew other teens in his situation, but none totally bereft of family.
"I couldn't call up Grandma, or I couldn't call up Mom," he said. "I
felt like a mistake ... I was an absolute mistake."
At age 19, a judge told him he could either join the Army or keep
trying to stay out of prison. Later, stationed in Tacoma, Wash., Soto
said the criminal trade on the city's "hilltop" came to him easily.
"I've always had that love of the criminal element," he said. "I grew
up with crooks."
Following an ex-girlfriend, Soto brought his habits of crime and drug
use to Medford, where he soon started selling and using meth.
"I couldn't stand the way I felt on it, but I could not stop doing
it," Soto said. "Meth damn near killed me."
The stimulant drug helped Soto enjoy "the other half of the day"
after he worked 10 hours installing central heating and air systems.
Avoiding Medford's multi-colored meth that is "cut" with any number
of powdery substances, Soto drove to Portland or California to buy a
purer form of the drug that he could smoke in "rock" or "crystal" forms.
In a story similar to those told by most other meth addicts, Soto
lost his job, his freedom and his family to the drug. He spent four
years in and out of jail, "coming to" every morning instead of waking
up. Several times he was hospitalized for severe dehydration that
left him feeling like his heart had turned to stone in his chest.
"I know I would have died within that next year," Soto said.
When his children went to live with relatives, Soto said he tried to
tell himself they were better off. If he overdosed or got killed by
the police, at least his kids would have his Social Security, he
figured. But the hole in his life that should have been filled by
parents still gaped.
"That started getting to me," Soto said. "I just wanted my kids back,
and I wanted the state to get out of my life."
Determined to claim some self-worth, Soto spent a month in
residential treatment at Addictions Recovery Center in Medford and
six months in intensive group therapy at OnTrack Inc. Although he had
once found them laughable, the testimonials of recovering addicts
seemed to relate to his own life. After a year and a half apart, Soto
reunited with his children. He's never relapsed.
Soto now is among a group of about 30 recovering addicts who visit
local treatment centers, the jail and juvenile detention center
sharing their success in sobriety.
"He volunteers all over the place," said John Hamilton, Jackson
County drug-court coordinator. "He sponsors many people."
And before the year's end, when his third child is born, Soto will
get a fresh chance as a drug-free dad and will add another small
branch to his seedling family tree.
"This child will have a better start," Soto said. "I'm just happy to
have another relative."
EDITOR'S NOTE: This is the fourth in a series of stories on addicts
recovering from meth use. The stories run on the first Sunday of each month.
When child welfare workers came to collect his son and daughter,
Louie Soto blamed them for all his problems, including addiction to
methamphetamine.
After all, theirs was the system that raised him.
"I'm a total throw-away," the 38-year-old said.
But after years of enduring abuse, homelessness and pain that he
masked with drugs, losing his children was the incentive Soto needed
to stop wishing he would die and to start living life. Drug-free for
the past three and a half years and a full-time father again, Soto
encourages other addicts on the path to sobriety. Preaching hope,
he's found, exorcises his own demons and helps him give his children
the childhood he never had.
A self-proclaimed "product of the system," Soto said he was taken as
a baby to the New York Foundling Hospital. His earliest memories are
of numerous foster homes. At age 6, Soto was adopted by a family who
subjected him to beatings and long hours locked in a basement. At age
13, he ran away for good.
When he wasn't on the streets, Soto lived in shelters, group homes
and juvenile detention. He slept in trees and ate out of trash cans.
He knew about drugs, but the simple fact of survival kept him too
busy to get high, he said.
"Then it was about 'Where was I going to lay my head?' " he said.
Soto knew other teens in his situation, but none totally bereft of family.
"I couldn't call up Grandma, or I couldn't call up Mom," he said. "I
felt like a mistake ... I was an absolute mistake."
At age 19, a judge told him he could either join the Army or keep
trying to stay out of prison. Later, stationed in Tacoma, Wash., Soto
said the criminal trade on the city's "hilltop" came to him easily.
"I've always had that love of the criminal element," he said. "I grew
up with crooks."
Following an ex-girlfriend, Soto brought his habits of crime and drug
use to Medford, where he soon started selling and using meth.
"I couldn't stand the way I felt on it, but I could not stop doing
it," Soto said. "Meth damn near killed me."
The stimulant drug helped Soto enjoy "the other half of the day"
after he worked 10 hours installing central heating and air systems.
Avoiding Medford's multi-colored meth that is "cut" with any number
of powdery substances, Soto drove to Portland or California to buy a
purer form of the drug that he could smoke in "rock" or "crystal" forms.
In a story similar to those told by most other meth addicts, Soto
lost his job, his freedom and his family to the drug. He spent four
years in and out of jail, "coming to" every morning instead of waking
up. Several times he was hospitalized for severe dehydration that
left him feeling like his heart had turned to stone in his chest.
"I know I would have died within that next year," Soto said.
When his children went to live with relatives, Soto said he tried to
tell himself they were better off. If he overdosed or got killed by
the police, at least his kids would have his Social Security, he
figured. But the hole in his life that should have been filled by
parents still gaped.
"That started getting to me," Soto said. "I just wanted my kids back,
and I wanted the state to get out of my life."
Determined to claim some self-worth, Soto spent a month in
residential treatment at Addictions Recovery Center in Medford and
six months in intensive group therapy at OnTrack Inc. Although he had
once found them laughable, the testimonials of recovering addicts
seemed to relate to his own life. After a year and a half apart, Soto
reunited with his children. He's never relapsed.
Soto now is among a group of about 30 recovering addicts who visit
local treatment centers, the jail and juvenile detention center
sharing their success in sobriety.
"He volunteers all over the place," said John Hamilton, Jackson
County drug-court coordinator. "He sponsors many people."
And before the year's end, when his third child is born, Soto will
get a fresh chance as a drug-free dad and will add another small
branch to his seedling family tree.
"This child will have a better start," Soto said. "I'm just happy to
have another relative."
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