CRYSTAL METH TURNS FAIRYTALE TO BROKEN DREAMS

"This is where I went to school," Audrey (Holliday) Bjornstad told
the students of F. G. Miller High School last Thursday afternoon, in
the first of two information sessions on the highly addictive street
drug, crystal meth.

"I last spoke here at my graduation, as valedictorian. Today, I felt
it was important to come and tell you this so it doesn't happen in
your family."

Bjornstad said her family's story "all started like a fairytale, with
two parents and two beautiful kids." At 15, her son was "an athletic
teenager, a kid who had it all." Then, in Grade 10, he was caught
skipping school and smoking pot.

"It was the beginning of the end."

The panicked parents got counselling for their son and set curfews,
and thought things were returning to normal.

Then in the summer of 2003, the youth's behaviour started to change.
He lost interest in family activities, friends and sports, "and then
our world fell apart" at the end of summer when he went missing for days.

"The police found him in a meth house in Sherwood Park. We didn't
know what meth was, or what a meth house was, and we sure didn't know
that there was a meth house in Sherwood Park."

Their "miserable, unhappy kid," who had been charged with possession
and trafficking, was released to their care, and thus began "a month
from hell," as he continued to use and deal in crystal meth and to
steal from his family.

"We had no choice but to give him an ultimatum," Bjornstad said. "He
had to get treatment or he couldn't continue to live at home." While
it was "the hardest thing I've ever done," she had no choice but to
lock him out.

"He phoned home nightly to tell us he was OK, but cold, hunger and
hardship were not enough to make him admit he was an addict and
accept treatment."

The youth lived on the streets until he was arrested in October and
sent to the Edmonton Young Offenders Centre, where he was held for 41 days.

"In jail, at least I knew where he was. Finally, I could sleep,
because I knew he was safe there."

While their son was incarcerated, Bjornstad says, "we learned as much
as we could: to overcome guilt, shame and embarrassment, to set
values and boundaries, and to manipulate the system. We found that
parents have all the responsibility but none of the control."

At this time, Bjornstad "decided to go public. I went to politicians,
community members and the media to try to get help for my son. Driven
by the fear that he would die, I pounded on door after door, and
talked to anyone who would listen."

It took seven months of living in a group home, but finally, "we were
very lucky, he got into treatment."

The Bjornstads' son returned home a year and a half later.

The addict is "a victim," Bjornstad says, "a slave to a substance,
and his family are victims too. It blew me out of the water when it
happened to us. Parents, siblings, grandparents and teammates are all victims."

The difficulty of obtaining treatment for young addicts is compounded
by the fact that there are only eight treatment beds in the province,
Bjornstad says, and until Bill 202, the Protection of Children
Abusing Drugs Act, comes into effect on July 1, 2006, it is also
impossible to force young people into treatment without their consent.

In May 2004, Bjornstad formed Parents Empowering Parents, a group
which includes a support group for recovering youth.

"Every meeting we have five to 10 new families dealing with addiction."

Recovery is said to take nine to 24 months, with cross-addictions
common, but Bjornstad cautions that "it's a process, not an event."
Her son's recovery is "not over, and it might never be over."

For the Bjornstads, "our journey continues. We have our son back, but
he's not the same kid. " Now living away from home, she says, "he's
trying to get on with his life."

"I'm not here to scare you," Bjornstad told the FGM students as she
wound up her presentation. "I'm here to tell you this is real."

A few hours later, Bjornstad faced a packed house at the Seniors'
Recreation Centre to tell her story to the public.

"It's kind of weird coming home," she told her audience. "This is one
of the harder (presentations) I've done."

As one of the first parents to go public, Bjornstad says she was "met
with denial. The community was not ready to admit we had a problem."

She praised Elk Point for "being proactive, rather than reactive. I
hope you continue forward, and set up a response team and have a
coordinated effort."

Addiction is a problem that can face any family, she emphasized.

"As a community, you will be dealing with this. Families will need
accurate facts and the reassurance that they didn't cause this."

"We were both raised in a small town. We had morals and values in the
right places. Addiction has no boundaries or borders."

"I truly believe you are a pioneer in the province," Thomas Kondla,
who was part of the planning committee for the sessions, told
Bjornstad. "There are angels in society, and you are one of them," he
said as he presented her with an angel statuette and a candle
commemorating her visit.

Kondla says he feels the drug awareness process will continue in Elk Point.

"The biggest question I get is, 'is there a crystal meth problem in
Elk Point?' I don't believe we have a big problem, but crystal meth
is in Elk Point.

"This is step one. We'll continue on from there."